Good Witch: Smoke and Mirrors
by TheAuthor89
Summary: As Cassie and Sam maneuver the ins and outs of a new relationship, a mysterious visitor has arrived in Middleton seeking revenge on the Merriwick women.
1. Chapter 1

Hi there! Thanks for checking out my fic!….I've taken some liberties with GW timelines here, but have done my upmost to stay true to characters! Feedback most welcome!

1

"Sam."

Exhaling, he closes the car door behind him, turning to face her.

"Where have you been? Are you alright?"

She's worried and it's the last thing he wanted to cause her. "I'm fine….I've just been…." He rubs the back of his head, his frustration and regret simmering just below the surface. "…..I lost a patient tonight."

"_Sam_."

She says his name in that way he's certain she can feel everything inside him. "…I just got in my car and drove….I've been driving all night, trying to clear my head."

There's a considerable space between them and she takes the few steps towards him, closing it. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "It's not your fault; it's mine….all mine."

Her brows furrow as she reaches out to him, taking his hand. It's soft and delicate in comparison to his and the dryness and cracking caused by years of scrubbing in.

He twines his fingers with hers anyway.

"I'm here if you want to talk," she offers softly.

"I think I'm just going to head to bed."

She nods, and he can't meet her gaze.

He wanted the ferris wheel.

To see her eyes shining against the moonlight.

He wanted to wrap his arm around her, bring her into his side as they sat at the top, all of Middleton below them, out of reach.

Just the two of them.

He heads towards his front door, only he can't let go of her hand.

Neither can she.

The words he needs to say are caught in his throat, and he wipes a hand over his face in an attempt to hold his emotions at bay.

They're both silent, standing there and it isn't until she squeezes his hand gently, does he meet her gaze. It's kind, gentle, everything he didn't know he needed at that moment.

"I'll make you some tea."

She manages to draw a smile from him and everything inside him feels a little less heavy. "….the stuff that tastes like coffee?"

"Sure."

. . . . . . . . . . .

The fire crackles in the hearth as she settles beside him, tea cup perched between her hands. The warmth provided from his own settles the tremors in his hands he hasn't been able to shake since he left the hospital.

"….I haven't felt this way since I left New York," he admits. "I forgot how it completely _guts_ you from the inside out."

Her hand reaches out to touch his arm, and he's got her hand in his, weaving his fingers through hers.

"You did everything you could, Sam," she offers gently.

He exhales. "Did I?….I've been replaying it in my head….I had him open on the table, right in front of me…there's always risk of complications but there shouldn't have been. I did everything right…." He can feel his throat tighten and the words are lost again.

The flatline still rings in his ears.

"After Jake died, I replayed that day over and over in my head."

He looks over at her. She's never spoken openly about her late husband, and he feels the magnitude of the moment settle between them.

"I would go back and forth, wondering if I could have done something differently….asked him to meet me for lunch, or told him to be safe on more time that it would have saved him."

Tears well in her eyes and she wipes them away.

"How did you move past it?" He asks softly.

Her head tilts in that way, that knowing way, as she takes a deep breath. "I don't know if I've ever truly gotten past it. I still wake up and think of him."

He looks down at their joined hands, taking in her admission. "He had a family. A wife. Kids. I can't stop thinking about how their lives are going to be changed forever."

Setting her cup on the coffee table, she settles into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. It's a simple gesture and yet it grounds him. Her very presence settles him and the guilt that has been weighing on him.

"Everyone can master a grief but he that has it."

"Hemingway?" He guesses.

"Shakespere."

He smiles. "I should have known."

"You're a _great_ doctor, Sam. There are so many people here in Middleton that have you to thank for your care and treatment. Don't loose sight of that."

He presses his lips to the crown of her head, breathing her in.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Oooh, waffles! What's the occasion?"

She smiles at her daughter as she enters the kitchen. "Sometimes you just need something comforting to start your day off."

Grace helps herself to the freshly squeezed juice her mother has set out, sliding onto a stool at the island. "I won't complain then," she smiles.

She's got a batch of batter ready to go, and she sprinkles in the mini chocolate chips before pouring it into the iron. Grace's phone chirps from beside her on the counter, and she watches as her expression shifts as she reads the text.

"Everything alright?"

"It's Nick…he's been texting me since last night; he's pretty worried about his Dad."

She flips the iron, listening.

"He never showed up at the festival, and apparently he didn't get home until really late last night."

"I'm sure Nick really appreciates you being there for him."

Grace shrugs, chewing her lip. "I just wish there was more that I could do."

The timer on the iron dings, and she scoops the waffles out, placing them on a serving tray.

Grace's face lights up. "Mom, can I take some of these over to Nick? Chocolate chip waffles are Sam's favourite!"

"I think that's a great idea, honey. There's an extra batch of batter in the fridge."

"You just happened to have an extra batch made up?" Grace questions, heading to the fridge. "Oohh, can I take some of this fruit and yogurt too?"

She smiles, nodding. "Take whatever you like."

. . . . . . . . . .

Bounding down the stairs, Nick unlocks the door opening it to Grace on the other side. "What is all that?" He gestures to the bag she has in her arms.

"My brilliant idea, of course," Grace smiles, side stepping him inside the house.

Closing the door behind her, he follows her into the kitchen. He watches as she unpacks the contents of the bag, quickly overtaking what little counter space they have.

"Do you have a waffle iron?" She questions.

"A what?"

"A waffle iron," she repeats.

"I dunno, check the cupboards maybe?"

While she's busy searching the cupboards, he takes stock of what she's unpacked from the bag. "Is this waffle batter?"

"Uh huh!…Found one!" She reaches in the far back of the cupboard above the stove, pulling out the small appliance.

"I had no idea we even had that," Nick comments.

She clears a spot on the counter, plugging it in to warm up."Well, it's a good thing you did because that would have put a hitch in my otherwise brilliant plan."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"Breakfast for your Dad."

He gives her a curious look. "How exactly is that going to help?"

She echos her mothers words. "Sometimes you just need something comforting to start your day off."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

He registers the knock on his door, turning over to find Nick letting himself in. He can smell the coffee before he can decipher anything else, and he's pulling himself up against the head board. "What's all this?" He questions.

Nick gives him one of his lopsided smiles and a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Breakfast."

"You did this for me?"

His son rests the tray over his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him. "As much as I'd like to take credit for all of this, I won't. Cassie sent all this over with Grace, and she helped me make it."

Lifting the cover off the plate, he smiles at the chocolate chip waffles. "You made these?"

Nick nods. "You got home really late last night and I thought you could use something to start your day off right."

He's at a loss for words. The kid sitting across from him is no longer the same kid he practically dragged here from New York. "….this looks great, Nick. Thank you."

"Why did you get home so late last night anyway? You missed the festival and everything," he questions carefully.

He's never talked with Nick about his work, let alone when he's lost a patient. In New York, it was easier to keep that part of his life separate, to carry that on his own.

Middleton has a way of changing that.

Pulling himself up further against the headboard, he reaches for the coffee first, taking a sip. Immediately he knows it's his tea-that-tastes-like-coffee, and the mere fact that she would send this, now, comforts him. "I had to go into emergency surgery last night. There were complications with my patient and unfortunately, I lost him." He knows the expression on his sons face well, the way his brows furrow together, the way his mouth becomes a tight line. "I'm fine," he reassures.

"It'd be alright if you weren't," Nick points out. "That really sucks, Dad."

"It does," he agrees. "Its the part of the job I hate the most."

Reaching across the tray, Nick helps himself to some of the fruit, dipping it into the dish of yogurt. "You know, I've never told you this, but I'm really proud of you, Dad."

He holds his mug mid sip, taken aback. "You are?"

Nick shrugs, helping himself to more fruit. "Yeah, I mean, when we were in New York….all my friends Dads were business men and were just, like, these really awful people, all about money and being rich….I could always say that my dad [I]helps[/I] people and it didn't matter that you were never home because I knew you were out there, saving peoples lives."

"You really thought that?" He questions softly.

"Still do."

"Nick….I don't know what to say," he admits.

He shrugs, getting up off the bed. "Then don't say anything…..just know that I'm proud of you regardless of what happens."

He nods.

"Look, it's Saturday. Stay home today. We can shoot hoops, play video games, whatever you want to do."

He mentally runs through his schedule already knowing that it's packed, and Nick anticipates his response.

"You can't pour from an empty cup."

He chuckles. "Where did you hear that?"

"Grace says it all the time….play hooky. You deserve it."

He shakes his head, letting out a sigh. "Alright. You've convinced me."

Nick smiles, pumping a fist.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Try this; it's valerian root. It's said to help with insomnia."

"Thank you, I will."

She smiles. "Let me know how you feel after a few nights."

Her customer nods, heading to pay for their item. The bell chimes above the door at Bell Book, and Cassie smiles, turning to greet the Mayor. "Hello Martha. What brings you downtown mid afternoon?"

Martha weaves her way through the store, her purse perched in the crook of her elbow. "I was wondering if you put anymore thought it my proposal?"

"Your exhibit on the Merriwick women," she replies. The bell chimes again, and out of the corner of her eye, she registers the new customer that has walked in. "Between the festival, Grey House and my shop, I really haven't had time to consider it."

"What's there to consider?" Martha reasons. "The Merriwick woman have been an integral part of the history and make-up of Middleton; they deserve to be honoured in this years Historic Middleton exhibit-"

There's a loud crash behind them, and Martha jumps. "For heavens sake! What was that?"

What's left of a vase lay shattered on the floor, as her most recent customer stands over it. "I'm sorry," he apologizes.

Cassie shakes her head, giving him a warm smile. "Accidents happen. You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Is there anything I can help you find?"

"Just browsing," he offers.

It's hard for her to get a read on the man standing in front of her. While he doesn't outwardly give any cause for concern, the air around him has shifted ever so slightly. "You're not from around here, are you?"

He shakes his head.

"Well, welcome to Middleton. I'm Cassie Nightengale." She extends her hand in greeting.

It's a beat before he takes her outstretched hand, shaking it. "Jackson Weld."

"What brings you to Middleton, Mr. Weld?"

He shifts on his feet, and glass crunches beneath his shoe. "Unfinished business."

He's held her hand a beat longer than necessary, and she withdraws, wrapping her arms around herself as a chill passes through her. "Well I hope you come to the conclusion you're looking for."

"I intend to. It was nice to meet you."

She smiles. "You too."

The glass crunches again under his feet as he heads for the door, the bell chiming his departure.

"He certainly gives a new meaning to tall, dark and mysterious," Martha comments. "He didn't even offer to pay for the vase!"

She heads to the counter, reaching for the broom and dust pan behind it. "Let me talk to Grace and Abigail about the exhibit, and I'll get back to you?"

"I look forward to your cooperation!" Martha sings, heading for the door.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"I'm so hungry I could probably eat everything in here."

He laughs, shaking his head following Nick to their favourite spot at the Bistro. "Must have been all that running around I had you doing when I kicked your butt that third time."

Nick rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "I let you win."

"You tell yourself whatever you need to," he teases.

Nick smirks, sliding into their booth. "At some point you'd think you'd cut me a little bit of slack; I am your son you know."

He slides in opposite him, setting his phone on the table beside him. He's not even sure why he's brought it with him: it surprisingly hasn't rung, buzzed, or beeped all morning. "Not a chance, kid."

"Well isn't this a rare sighting!" Stephanie approaches their table, handing them each a menu. "Dr. Radford here on a Saturday!"

Nick looks unsurely at him, and he brushes Stephanie's comment off. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Someone convinced me to play hooky today."

Stephanie looks expectantly at Nick, who raises a hand in admission. "That's not such a bad thing," she smiles. "I should have played hooky today too; I'm a little on the sleepy side after the festival last night. Did you enjoy the ferris wheel?"

Sam turns his attention to the menu. "I didn't get the chance to test it out….I got hung up at the hospital last night."

"Oh, that's too bad-"

"-yeah, it is…hey, what's the soup today?"

"Corn chowder."

He looks up with a smile. "Just my luck; my favourite."

"Coming right up." She looks over at Nick. "The usual?"

Nick hands back the menu, nodding. "You got it. Thanks, Stephanie."

"No problem!"

As Stephanie heads back towards the kitchen, Nick gives his father a questioning look. "You bought tickets for the ferris wheel?"

"Yeah….Martha insisted."

"Wasn't that a couples thing?"

"I think so."

"So, did you ask someone to go with you?"

He's careful with his response. He and Linda didn't exactly leave their son with a shining example of a partnership, and he doesn't want to give Nick any wrong ideas about his love life. "I did."

Nick looks at him expectantly. "Are you going to tell me who?"

"Does it matter? I didn't get the chance to use the tickets-"

"-was it Cassie?"

The waitress approaches their table with their drinks and cutlery, and he thanks her, taking a sip.

"You asked Cassie," Nick deduces. "Are you two dating?"

He shakes his head. "We're not dating-"

"-is there something going on between you two?"

Leaning back into the booth, he exhales, searching for the right words. "Cassie and I….we're just friends."

Nick's silent for a moment, pealing the label off of his bottle of juice. "_Friends _don't buy tickets for a couples ferris wheel."

"Nick…I don't know what you want me to say," he admits. "I bought the tickets just after we moved here. I barely knew anyone, let alone Cassie-"

"-and rather than say, giving them away, you kept them-"

"-I actually forgot I bought them until Martha gave them to me."

"Dad, c'mon. Level with me."

He opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn't know what to say.

"You and Cassie-"

"-it's complicated," he cuts him off. The surprise is clear in his sons eyes and he quickly searches for the right words. "We're really good friends, and yeah, I asked her to ride the ferris wheel with me….I don't know if that means there's ever going to be anything more between us." He doesn't mention the lake house and the conversation that followed, not sure if it still carries weight anymore.

Because she still wakes up thinking of Jake.

Stephanie is there, serving them their food. "Here you two go!"

"This looks great, thank you."

"No problem at all. Let me know if you need anything."

"We will."

He takes his time folding his napkin into his lap, buttering the biscuit on the side of his plate.

"So that's all you're going to say?"

"There's nothing else _to_ say," he reasons.

"If you say so," Nick sighs.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

There's a light tap at the patio door, and she looks up to find Sam on the other side. Wiping her hands, she gestures him in. "Hi," she greets.

Closing the door behind him, he comes to stand at the island where she's peeling potatoes. "Hi….what are you making?"

"Corn chowder."

He's not sure how she knows, because he's certain it's not just a coincidence. Nothing with Cassie ever is. "My favourite."

"Is it?" She questions casually. "You're more than welcome to stay for dinner."

"Nick's actually got pizza and video games lined up for tonight. Thank you, though….for inviting me."

She smiles. "You and Nick are always welcome. That's really nice of him. What's the occasion?"

He's watching her as she's peeling, her hands, and it surprises him at how perfectly she does it. Just like seemingly everything else about her. "I think he's worried about me after last night. He convinced me to play hooky with him today. Thank you, for the waffles by the way."

There's a knowing look in her eyes and she stills for a minute, giving him her full attention. "It was Grace's idea, but you're welcome."

He somehow doubts that, but he's grateful for her. For her presence that seamed to permeate the entire day. "I never apologized for not making it to the ferris wheel-"

"-Sam, you don't have to. I understand completely."

He wants to tell her how much he was looking forward to it. How happy he was that she agreed to go with him. He wants to confess these feelings, the ones that seem to be getting stronger with each moment he spends with her.

But he doesn't. Because she's still wakes up thinking of Jake.

"Sam?"

She can read him like a book and the worry crosses her face. "I've been thinking…"

"….about what I said this morning. About Jake," she finishes.

"Cassie….lf I pressured you in anyway-"

"-You didn't," she reassures.

He looks down, searching for the words. "You and Jake…you two had a life together, a marriage…."

"…he will always be a part of who I am. My Journey," she says softly.

"I get it. I do." Looking up, he's caught in her eyes, in the uncertainty that's looking back at him. "….if you're still waking up, thinking of him….Cassie, it's ok if you and I-"

"-So what's this I hear about the Merriwick Women being honoured at this years Historic Middleton exhibit?" Abigail questions, joining them in the kitchen. "Hi Sam," she greets quickly; turning towards her cousin. "How come I'm hearing this from Martha?"

"We're being honoured?" Grace questions, appearing in the kitchen. "That's super cool! What for?"

Their conversation interrupted, he exhales looking over at her.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes.

"Don't be...I should get going; pizza and video games are waiting."

There's something there in her eyes, something that's hanging between them. She touches his arm as he passes her heading towards the porch door, and he catches her hand briefly before letting go.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

2

_Before we examine and dissect what happened yesterday, why don't we take a beat and try to enjoy what happened yesterday."_

She wakes, remnants of the distinct blue of his eyes, the smile on his face settling warmly inside of her.

Sam.

He's been on her mind more than usual the past few days.

Ever since the lake house.

Rubbing her forehead, she sighs.

It's been before then.

The way he challenges her. His passion for medicine. The way he weaves his fingers through hers automatically, perfectly. Their talks and the way he listens, _truly _listens. She's almost certain if Ryan hadn't showed up that night at her store, she would have kissed him. He's kind, and funny, and he adores her daughter.

In her head she understands why he wasn't able to meet her at the ferris wheel. She can't imagine the guilt and pain he's feeling. Her heart, on the other hand, is still disappointed. She had imagined them floating to the top, stoping there overtop of all of Middleton, just the two of them.

No ex-wives. No husbands. No kids. No patients, guests or customers. No should we's or shouldn't we's because they'd be there, together.

Rolling over, she stares at the ceiling.

She's not thinking of Jake, and a pang of guilt settles inside of her chest. What she shared with Jake was _magical _in every way. In many ways he had given her the home she had been searching for her entire life. He gave her Brandon and Lori. Grace.

She never thought she'd feel this way again.

_Magical._

The tears well in her eyes, and she catches them before they have the chance to trickle down her face. "What should I do, Jake?" She questions softly.

She knows the answer even before the words leave her lips. She's always known.

_Be happy, Cass._

She can feel him there with her, and she closes her eyes, letting his presence alleviate her guilt.

She woke up thinking of Sam.

The smile spreads slowly across her face.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The coffee machine, he feels, is taking an extraordinarily long time to brew. It may be due to his impatience this morning.

All he can seem to think about is her.

The look in her eyes when he left Grey House last night.

He exhales, rubbing his jaw. It's been a long time since he's felt this way.

If he's ever felt this way.

He's unsettled. Impatient. He's talked himself out of just going over to Grey House at least a half dozen times since he's woken up.

_Give her space. Time._

There's a reason why things didn't seem to work out with Ryan or John. What makes him think that things would somehow be different with him?

He can't help but think about how different things may have been if he had kissed her then, that night in her shop. He can't pinpoint exactly when things changed for him, but he can distinctly remember just looking at her and realizing something.

He's still trying to figure out exactly what that something is.

At the lake house, he was afraid of loosing her. It was the Maldives and he could see the excitement in her eyes, even when she spoke of her misgivings. The mere thought of Middleton without her, his _life_ without her, didn't sit well with him. The idea of her spending all that time with John damn near drove him crazy. At the time he knew she wasn't looking for anything more, but he knew John's reputation: he wanted more.

She joined him at the lake house and they ended up hiking around the property. It was cold and snowy but her smile, the colour that filled her cheeks from the cold air; he would have hiked ten miles if it meant being in the presence of her glow. And then they were discussing paint and talking about the dig and the only thing he could concentrate on was how much he needed her.

_If you're not taking chances, then you're not really living life._

He had been waiting for that opportunity to present itself since he had taken her horseback riding and it felt like time was running out. He kissed her then and he's thought of that kiss what feels like day and night since.

She kissed him back and that has to mean something.

The doorbell rings, and he glances at his watch, curious to who would be up this early other than him. As he makes his way down the hallway, he contemplates heading over the Grey House. He needs to talk to her. See her. Opening the door, it takes him a minute to register that she's standing on the other side.

"Cassie," he greets.

"Morning," she greets with a smile. "I was wondering if we could talk?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Can I come in?"

He laughs, shaking his head at himself. "Yes, of course. Come in."

She side steps him inside, and he closes the door behind them following her into the kitchen. The urgency in which he had to see her dissipates to only be replaced with words he's not sure he has right now, words he's sure he's hasn't used in a very long time, if at all.

"I wanted to finish our conversation…from last night," she begins.

He circles the counter to face her. She's got her fingers twisted together and her gaze is a little apprehensive as if gauging his response.

"I don't know if there's anything more to say, Cassie," He responds. "….when I first moved to Middleton, I had no idea what I was doing….I don't know what I would have done without you and your friendship….it means the world to me and I know there's this thing between us…this thing that…" Her eyes gaze back at him expectantly and he let's his voice trail off.

She makes him smile more than he can ever remember. Makes him want to share what he's feeling. Makes him just want to be _better_. She means more to him than he fully understands at the moment and if it comes down to loosing her or remaining friends, he's not sure if he can live with either.

"…If you're still waking up, thinking of Jake-"

"-Sam the only one I'm thinking about is you," she admits softly.

Everything inside of him stands still.

"I woke up this morning thinking about you. About us," she continues. "And how you've brought _so_ much to my life. Jake will always be a part of my journey….What I want more than anything is to see where this journey goes with us."

"I want that too," he confesses.

"I don't want to loose what we have right now, either."

Silence settles between them and he knows that leap of faith is right in front of them. She's worried about what could happen and hell if he's not worried about the same thing. "….I don't know if I can be just friends anymore, Cassie."

"Sam," she sighs.

Inhaling deeply, he takes the leap. "I'm ready to take that leap of faith because you….you're who I wake up every morning thinking about."

She's closing the space between them, mating her lips to his. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest and he kisses her back gently. "Take the leap with me," He breathes against her lips.

"Yes," she breathes back.

"_Cassie_," he sighs. He feels like he's floating and electrified all at once. Like her light and goodness are coursing through him, intoxicating him. She falls into him, her hands framing his face in a tender embrace. He's got one hand around her waist, the other in her hair and he feels almost lightheaded.

Their kiss at the lake house had been spontaneous and tentative. Unsure. This is entirely different. There's a sureness in her lips, a wanting in how she leans into him that he thought for a long time, was in every way, one sided.

"Are you two going to come up for air anytime soon?"

She quickly pulls back abruptly, and it takes him a minute to register Nick standing in the doorway. She' blushing beside him and he turns towards his son who is trying to hide his grin. "Good morning."

Nick attempts to swallow his smile, too little avail, sitting at the breakfast bar. "Morning," he greets back.

She takes a step back and so does he, straightening his tie.

"Are you going to work today?" Nick questions.

Despite the space between them, there's a buzz of electricity that's simmering between them. It takes a great deal of restraint to not reach for her, tether himself to her somehow. "Yeah. There are some patients I need to see, but I shouldn't be too long."

"I should let you go then," she says softly.

"I'll walk you out."

"Bye Cassie," Nick smiles.

Cassie smiles back at him, laughing a little. "Goodbye, Nick."

As she heads out of the kitchen, he gives his son a look but he only grins back at him.

"I'm sorry about that," he sighs, laughing a little.

"Don't be. We weren't exactly discreet."

He stops her short of the door, taking her hands into his. The electricity slides up his arms, settling inside of him. "What are you doing later?"

"I have some inventory at the shop that needs to be taken care of, but other than that…."

"Let me make up for the ferris wheel."

Her eyes light up, and she bites her lip briefly. "What did you have in mind?"

"Dinner. Just the two of us."

Reaching for the door, she opens it, taking a step outside. "I'd like that."

"I'll pick you up. Around 7?"

"Sounds perfect."

Their hands are still twined together, and he rubs the back of her hand with his thumb.

She holds his gaze for a minute, before stepping towards him, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. "I'll see you later."

"See you later," he agrees, catching her kiss. He finally lets go of her hand, watching her as she heads back over to Grey House. He takes a minute to gather himself and his thoughts and everything that just happened between them. A leap had been taken and he's more than sure in his decision to do this with her. More sure than he thinks he's ever been in his life. A smile is etched on his face, and as he heads back to the kitchen, he's met with Nick's grin.

"Nothing more to say, huh?" Nick questions, echoing his fathers words.

"There might be a little more to say," he concedes, sliding onto a stool beside him. Steepling his hands together, he rubs his lower lip with his thumb. "I'm not sure when it happened, but Cassie means….she means a lot to me, Nick."

"I kinda got that idea….earlier," he jokes.

He laughs, rubbing his face. "I'm sorry you had to walk in on that."

"It's alright."

He looks over at his son. "Is it?….your mother and I haven't been divorced that long-"

"-You're different when Cassie's around."

He ponders his sons words. "Is that a good thing?"

Nick nods. "She makes you happy, Dad."

"Yeah, she does."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"That's a look I haven't seen in awhile," Abigail muses.

Hanging up her coat, she can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of her lips. She certainly hasn't felt this way in a long time.

He wakes up thinking of her.

She suspected his feelings weeks ago, even when it seemed like he hadn't quite figured them out yet. There has always been something there but the universe had a way of waylaying them both, first with Ryan and then Linda, their latest hurtle in the charismatic archeologist, John Dover. Her relationship with John bothered Sam, but it was the nudge he needed to open up to her.

It was the nudge she needed too.

She avoids hr cousins gaze, feigning innocence. "I'm not sure what you mean."

Abigail follows her into the kitchen. "Have you told Grace?"

"Told me what?"

Her steps falter for half a second, before continuing towards the stove, grabbing the tea pot. She quickly glances at Abigail who gives her a look.

"About the Merriwick exhibit," Abigail covers.

"We're actually doing it?" Grace asks excitedly.

Telling Grace.

She hasn't thought that far ahead, having only just reconciled her own feelings about Sam. "We Merriwick woman have a deep history here in Middleton," she reasons, filling the tea pot with water.

"One that's been long overlooked," Abigail adds.

"This is so cool," Grace replies in awe. "What can I do to help?"

Setting the pot on the stove, she turns to face her daughter. "Well, you could start by having a look in the old trunks in the attic. You never know what pieces of history you'll find up there."

"I'm on it!''

When it's just the two of them, Abigail turns to her. "Information like this has a way of spreading in a small town; you wouldn't want her to find out through someone else."

Her cousin, she knows, is right, but it's finding the right words to tell Grace that is proving to be a challenge. "I'm not exactly sure what to say to her," she confesses.

"I'm sure you'll find the right words," Abigail reassures.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Taking a deep breath, he centres himself, concentrating on the incantation and its energy. The incense and oils fill the room, and he breathes in deeply, letting the tingly, bitter smell fill his lungs.

"With this charm, set forth the power to hide my true intentions. When they look upon me, let them only see the good and not the evil in my heart. Let my presence debilitate their mind, body and soul, confuse and beguile them. Therein, keep my soul and thoughts secret so I may bring the Merriwick women down."

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Grace! Are you up here?"

"Over here!" She calls back.

Stepping over boxes and avoiding the stacks of furniture, Nick finds her sitting crossed legged on the floor, pouring over old photo albums. "What are you doing up here?"

"The Merriwick woman are going to be honoured at this years Historic Middle exhibit at the Museum. I'm just looking through these old boxes for items for the the exhibit."

He joins her on the floor. "That's pretty cool." Looking over her shoulder he laughs at the photos, in particular, the chunky baby he knows is Grace. "Is that you?"

"Wasn't I just the cutest baby?" She gushes.

"Chunky, maybe," he teases. She hits him in the arm, and he laughs. "I'm joking! You were adorable."

She gives him a look. "Nice save."

Pulling an album out of the box she's got on the floor in front her, Nick flips through it. "Wow. These are really old."

"Right?….look at that one." She points to a photo in his album of a women dressed in an extravagant gown. "That's Elizabeth Merriwick."

Nick looks at it more closely. If Grace hadn't told him otherwise, he would have sworn it was Cassie. "She looks like your mom."

"She does, doesn't she?"

He looks over at the album in her hands, and she's turned the page to reveal her parents wedding photos. "Is that your Dad?"

She looks down at the photo of her parents on their wedding day. "Yeah."

He picks up on the longing in her voice. "You miss him."

"Every day," she says softly.

"What was he like?"

Grace smiles. "He was the greatest. When I was younger he would bring me a yellow daisy….and he would say 'Grace, the only thing brighter than this flower, is your smile, so let's see it'…no matter how sad I was, it always worked."

"How old were you when he died?"

"11."

He can't imagine loosing a parent that young. His parents never seemed to get along, and the divorce was hard on him, but at least he still had them both. "I'm sorry, Grace."

She exhales, trying to smile. "Me too….I can't help but wonder what life would be like if he was still alive today."

"I probably wouldn't have walked in on your Mom and my Dad kissing this morning," he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

"_What?_"

She didn't see the humor in his joke and the look on her face tells him she didn't know about their parents relationship. "You don't know."

"Know what exactly?!" She questions.

"I think there's something going on between them….my Dad bought tickets for the ferris wheel and asked your Mom to go with him. She didn't tell you?"

She can feel the heat rising in her face and she rises to her feet, wiping off her jeans. "They're just friends," she reasons.

Nick gets to his feet, returning the photo album to the box. "I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure friends don't kiss the way they did this morning."

Tears sting her eyes and she quickly wipes them away. Hurt doesn't even accurately describe what she's feeling in the moment, and she tosses the photo album recklessly into the box, leaving the attic.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Plenty of rest and hydration, and you should be as good as new in a few days."

"Good as new, eh doc?" His elderly patient jokes. "At my age, I'll take it!"

He laughs, holding the door open for him in the exam room, following him out into reception area. "We'd all be so lucky to be as spry at your age, Mr. Johnson."

"I'll tell you the secret to my success."

They stop at the reception desk, and Sam listens intently.

"Find yourself a partner. Notice how I didn't say woman?" Mr. Johnson shakes his head. "Any man can find a woman, when what you really need is a [I]partner[/I], someone who challenges you, makes you laugh. Someone who drives you crazy."

Eve giggles from her desk.

"You find a partner, and well, your life will be golden," he advises.

Sam leans against the reception desk, pondering his words. "That simple, huh?"

"Simple!" The elderly man scoffs. "It will be the hardest thing you'll do in your life, doc. Once you've found her though, never let her go!" He's already heading for the door, and Eve calls after him.

"Hope you feel better soon, Mr. Johnson!"

Mr. Johnson waves in response, leaving the office with a little more spring in his step.

"He's so funny," Eve muses. "Did you know he and his wife have been married for fifty years?"

"Fifty years?" He echos in surprise. He and Linda barely made it ten, and even then, it was a challenge. "What's next?"

Eve brings up his schedule on her computer. "You have a half hour break, and then Mrs. Lawson is in for a follow up with her stitches."

He strums the counter, nodding. "Perfect. I have some calls to make. Let me know when Mrs. Lawson arrives."

"Will do! Oh, Cassie dropped this off for you!" She sets a container on the counter in front of him. "Corn Chowder!"

The smile is there and he immediately regrets not seeing her. "When was she by?"

"When you were in with Bobby Burke."

He sighs, remembering. The toddler screamed during his entire check-up; it was a wonder he could hear anything during the appointment. "Next time, let me know she's here-"

"-oh, she didn't want to interrupt you-"

"-I don't mind."

A smile spreads across Eve's face. "Is that a standing order, Dr. Radford?"

He can practically see the wheels turning in Eve's head and normally her chatty nature would be cause for concern with this kind of information. Only he doesn't want to keep this a secret. Keep _them_ a secret.

"Yes," he answers decisively.

Eve's gaze widens, and she promptly writes it down. "You've got it!"

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"I don't think the order of Himalayan Pink Salt came in," Tara comments, opening another box.

Her phone chirps from her pocket, and she fishes it out. "Did you check that box over there?"

_Thank you for the Chowder._

She smiles, replying back.

**_You're welcome._**

He's typing back and she waits, a little impatiently, for his message.

_…__would have loved to see you._

**_Tonight :)_**

His reply is instant and she smiles at the simple message.

_Can't wait._

"Who are you texting?" Tara questions.

She's pulled from her revere, and she slide her phone back into her pocket. "Sam."

Tara's expression changes, surprise written on her face. "He's got you smiling from ear to ear."

She hadn't noticed, and she attempts to change the subject. "Did you find the salt?"

Picking a box up off the floor, Tara moves it over to the other spices. "Yep; right where you said it would be."

Nodding, she returns to unpacking the assortment of essential oils that had come in. She picks up familiar scents like lavender and camomile, placing them on the counter.

"You two seem to get along well," Tara comments.

"We do," she agrees. Her noise tingles at a particular smell and she glances at the labels, trying to figure out the source.

"Brandon was telling me that Sam bought tickets for the ferris wheel."

She knows what her daughter in law is looking for: confirmation of her relationship with Sam. Abandoning the oils, she looks over at Tara. "You want to know if he asked me to join him."

"Did he?" Tara questions excitedly.

"He did-"

"-Cassie!"

She attempts to quell her excitement. "We never rode the ferris wheel; Sam had an emergency at the hospital."

Tara's face falls. "Oh. Well that's disappointing."

"Sam was needed elsewhere," she reasons.

"So are you two, dating?"

She's not sure how to answer Tara's questions. Everything seems to be moving faster than she can wrap her head around: one minute she and Sam are neighbours, friends, and the next she's kissing him in the middle of his kitchen. "I think we're just….seeing where things go."

Tara gives her a supportive smile. "You look a little overwhelmed."

"Is it that obvious?" She laughs lightly. "I haven't done this in a long time."

Tara comes to stand beside her, leaning against the counter. "I'm sorry if I came across pushy-"

"-it's fine," she reassures. "Sam and I….we're not exactly trying to keep anything a secret."

"It's nice to see you this way. This happy."

"It's nice feeling this way. This happy," she admits.

. . . . . . . . . .

He rings the bell to Grey House, surprised at the nerves that have settled in the pit of his stomach. He inspects the flowers he had bought one last time just as the door opens in front of him.

"Sam," Grace greets flatly.

"Hi…can I come in?" He questions unsurely.

She steps out of the doorway, letting him in. "You show up with flowers now?"

"They're beautiful," Cassie comments, coming from the kitchen.

He's taken aback a little as she joins them in the foyer. She's wearing…it doesn't even matter what she's wearing because the look in her eyes causes his heart to skip a beat. "Beautiful," he repeats softly.

"It's true," Grace says, surprised. "Were you even going to ask how I felt about it?" She doesn't wait for her mothers response, taking off upstairs.

Her door slams minutes later, and Cassie winces, letting out a sigh.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes.

She shakes her head, accepting the flowers from him. "It's not your fault. Could you give me a minute?"

"Of course."

With flowers in hand, she heads upstairs after her daughter.

. . . . . . . . . . .

She knocks gently on Grace's door.

"I don't really want to talk right now," Grace answers, her voice shaky.

"I need to do the talking, honey."

It's a minute before Grace opens the door. Her tear stained face tears at her heart and the guilt settles like an anchor inside of her. Stepping inside of her room she rests the flowers on her desk, sitting tentatively beside her on the bed. She's aware of her daughters body language, the way she hugs a pillow to her chest, turns her body slightly away from her. "I should have told you," she begins softly.

"Why didn't you?" Grace questions angrily. "I had to hear from Nick about you two making out in his kitchen!"

She doesn't react to her daughters anger, taking a deep breath. "I didn't know how," she says truthfully. "I wasn't looking for these feelings, Grace. I never thought I'd feel this way again, especially after what your father and I shared."

"Were you even going to ask me how I felt about it?"

"Of course I was….how _do_ you feel about it?"

Grace turns to look at her. "I don't know."

She nods, brushing the hair off her shoulder. "Let me know when you do?"

Grace shakes her head, rising from the bed. "You may not like my answer-"

"-it still matters to me-"

"-does it?" Grace questions quickly. "Because it seems like all of Middleton knew about you and Sam before I did. Your own daughter."

"You're right, and I'm sorry."

Tears well in Grace's eyes and she quickly wipes them away.

"Honey," she soothes. "If you feel this strongly, Sam and I-"

"-and be the reason why you're miserable? No thanks," she cuts off bitterly.

The room is charged with her daughters emotions, and despite the anger in her words, her fear permeates the very walls. "I'll give you some time think," she suggests, rising from the bed. "When you're ready to talk, I'll be downstairs-"

"-I don't want to talk. Go on your date-"

"-Grace-"

"-He brought you flowers!" She cries. "He's downstairs waiting and I don't want to talk!"

It's the end of the conversation and to push more, would only makes things worse. "Alright….Can I at least have a hug goodbye?"

"I'm not in a very giving mood," Grace replies softly.

Nodding, she catches one of her own tears. "I understand."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

He's waiting for her in the kitchen and to her surprise, he's made a pot of tea.

"I thought you could use this," he answers, pouring her a cup.

It's a gesture she's done for him countless times, and she's touched that he would reciprocate the sentiment. "Thank you."

"So, how'd it go with Grace?"

She tries to smile, reassure him, but can't. She takes a sip of her tea instead.

"That bad, huh?"

"She's upset with me."

"About us?" He questions.

She nods, tears filling her eyes. "She's scared, but it's easier for her to be angry right now. She misses her Dad _so_ much."

"I've never known loss like that," he comments.

"It's the worst kind of pain imaginable," she says softly. "It was hard enough loosing Jake….but watching Brandon, Lori and Grace loose their father…". Tears fill her eyes, and she wipes them away. "…there's nothing worse then knowing that your child is in pain and no matter what you do, there's nothing you can do to fix it for them."

He looks down, and she knows what he's thinking, knows what he's going to say.

"Maybe we should't do this."

"Is that what you want?"

"Of course it's not what I _want_." Taking her hand, he leads her into the sitting room guiding her to the couch. There's a box of tissue on the coffee table and he offers it to her before taking her hand in his. "This isn't about what I want; it's about what's best for Grace. What's best for you."

She wipes her eyes, and he interlaces his fingers with hers. It's such a simple thing, and yet it's meant so much to her.

It's the simple things she's missed the most.

The happiness she had felt earlier in the day is quickly replaced with a sense of loss she's not sure she can live with. "I don't want to lose you, Sam."

"Cassie," he soothes, enveloping her into his arms. "I'm not going anywhere."

She soaks him in, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. Everything between them has happened so fast, so strongly and she'd be lying to herself if she said it all didn't terrify her a little but the alternative? She can't live with the alternative. She doesn't want the alternative. She doesn't want friendship anymore.

She wants more.

The strength in his embrace settles her and when she finally pulls back, his eyes are so full of concern, she can feel it coming off him.

"So this isn't going to be easy," he points out. "Nothing in the world is worth having or worth doing unless it means effort, pain, difficulty."

"Roseveldt."

He nods. "You're not the only one that can quote great thinkers."

He manages to make her smile, and she reaches out, cupping his face.

"I don't know a lot about teenage girls, but if I've learned anything on this parenting journey it's that they always come around in the end."

"I hope so," she sighs.

Kissing her palm, he settles back into the couch. "You can talk to me, about this, anytime. I'm a pretty good listener."

"The best," she agrees. She settles back into the couch as well, angling her body towards his.

He reaches out, tucking a tendril of her hair behind her ear. "…you make everything look so effortless, Cassie…you don't have to be that way with me, especially about this."

She know's that's the perception she gives off. In the weeks after Jakes death it had been easier to just smile and let all of Middleton believe that she was okay, then allow them to see just how utterly heartbroken she was.

Leaning across the couch he plants a kiss to her forehead, and she settles into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Tell me about Jake," he asks softly.

She smiles through the ache in her chest, closing her eyes. "You would have liked him."

He kisses the top of her head. "I think so too."

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

3

"Nick let's go! You're going to be late!" He calls, for what seems like the twelfth time that morning. Checking his watch, he shakes his head swallowing the last of his coffee.

They're both late.

The sky is grey outside and with the amount of back and forth between the hospital and his practice he has to do today, he's not willing to gamble on getting caught in the rain. Nick had installed a weather app on his phone but his gut is still his gut; the paper never fails.

Hoping that today is the day the paper boy finally manages to deliver on time, he's surprisingly greeted with Grace sitting on his steps.

"Grace?"

She hands him the paper. "I'm just waiting for Nick."

He takes the paper from her, opening the door more fully. "Do you want to come in?"

"I'm fine."

Her back is to him but he doesn't need to see her face to pick up on the tone in her voice. Cassie had been on the receiving end of her anger last night, and it looks like he's getting a cool detachment this morning. Taking a deep breath, he closes the door behind him sitting beside her. "I never got to thank you for helping Nick with the waffles the other morning. They were exactly what I needed after loosing a patient."

She tucks her hair behind her ear, nodding. "You're welcome…I'm glad they helped."

He looks at the paper in his hands, choosing his words carefully. "Grace-"

"-Sam, you don't have to do this," she cuts him off.

"Yeah, I do," he disagrees. "Because you're not just "some kid" to me; your opinion matters to me and the relationship that we have…it means a lot to me."

"…it means a lot to me too," Grace admits.

There on the back page, the weather is calling for sunshine but not before breaking through the clouds.

He can distinctly remember the feeling when she told him she had passed her drivers test. When she had shown up unconscious in the ER. The pride and fear that filled him in those moments had been unexpected, but as he sits next to her now, not all that surprising; he doubts there isn't much he wouldn't do for her if she asked.

"Your Mom….she makes my emptiness-"

"-a little less empty," she finishes. "What happens when you two don't work out? You move back to New York? What about Nick? What about all the work he's done to turn himself around? You're just going to uproot him again?"

She's looking him directly in the eyes now, and he holds her gaze. "I've thought of that, yeah. There's a lot of things to loose, but there's so much more to gain-"

"-you're not my father, Sam-"

"-I'm not trying to be." Her eyes grow and he immediately regrets saying it. "That came out-"

"-tell Nick I'll meet him at school."

She's up off the step heading down the driveway. He doesn't bother calling after her, already knowing he's blown it. Behind him, the door opens and Nick is standing there finally ready to go.

"What are you doing out here?" He questions.

He sighs, pointing to Grace who's halfway down the block. "Putting my foot in my mouth."

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Nick closes the door behind him bounding down the steps. "You shouldn't have said anything, Dad…Grace is too into her head right now."

To say he's surprised at his son's astute reading of his friend would be an understatement.

"I'll see if I can smooth things over…I'll see you later."

He's already sprinting after her, and he sits there, just as the clouds break and the rain begins to sprinkle.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Finishing wrapping a set of earrings from Peru, Cassie places them into a bag. "You have excellent taste," she comments, easing her customers worries about wether or not their partner is going to like them. Handing the bag over the counter, she gives them a reassuring smile. "I'm sure they'll love them."

"I hope so," the customer comments. "Thank you so much for your help."

"Anytime," she reassures with a smile.

The door chimes and it's enough to agitate the dull ache at her temples she's been fighting all morning. "Oh Cassie!" Martha calls.

Wishing her customer well, she greets the mayor with a smile. "Hello Martha, what can I do for you?"

"I just came from Abigail's and she's informed me that the Merriwick women are going to be featured this year at the Historic Middleton exhibit, and I've come to check to make sure Abigail is…. well…" she lets her sentence trail off.

"I spoke with Abigail and Grace last night and we'd be happy to help in anyway we can."

Martha erupts in excitement. "Oh that's wonderful news! We have to get started right away! The exhibit is less than 3 weeks away!"

She nods, rubbing her temple. "Of course. I'm sure there are some old photos and pieces you can use as part of the exhibit at Grey House."

"Perfect! This is going to be the best exhibit the Middleton Museum has had to date!"

"It will be special," she agrees, moving to arrange some of the new candles they had received in the last shipment.

"Speaking of the word _date, _is it true that you and Middleton's good doctor are what do they say these days? _Boo'd up_?"

Cassie chuckles. "Where on earth did you hear that from?"

"One must stay relevant, Cassie! There is a new generation of voters in the next election and I have to be hip to their ways!"

She laughs, shaking her head. "Well, I'm not sure what that means, but if you're asking if Sam and I are dating-"

"-are you?"

"We're taking things slow, seeing where they go."

Martha beams. "That's wonderful news, Cassie. I'm _truly _happy for you."

"Thank you." Out of the corner of her eye, she notices the tall figure that has stopped outside of her shop, peering into the front window. She catches Jackson Weld's gaze, and he gives her a quick nod. Martha is talking about the exhibit but she can't register much of what she's saying. She's rooted to her spot as the noise of her shop and Martha's voice fade in and out. A small smile pulls at Weld's lips and it isn't until he looks away, heading down the street does everything come slamming back to her. She falters a minute, reaching for the nearest display for support.

"Cassie! Are you alright?" Martha worries, gripping her arm to help steady her.

"I don't know," she answers. Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she attempts to reassure Martha. "I've had this dull migraine all morning…I think I just need something to eat."

"Is everything ok?" Tara questions coming to join them. "Cassie, you look flushed."

Martha is guiding her to the back, gesturing for her to sit. Leaning on the table, she rubs her forehead. "I think I'm just ready for lunch."

"I can watch the store if you want to go," Tara offers.

"There you have it; let's get you to the Bistro and some food into you!"

She has to smile at the way Martha has slipped into her mothering instincts. She doesn't fuss when she links her arm with her own guiding her out of Bell, Book and Candle.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"So...are we not going to talk about what happened this morning?"

Not looking up from her math book, Grace feigns innocence. "I'm not sure what you're talking about?"

Nick slides the book away, closing it. "The disaster of a conversation my Dad tried to have with you?"

For as long as she's known him, Nick has never been a talker and she's surprised that he's said anything at all. She chews her pen, shaking her head. "It's fine."

He gives her a skeptical look. "Judging by the look on my Dad's face, I doubt he thinks the same thing."

She sighs, sitting back in her chair. "You're ok with this? With them?"

Nick shrugs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've just gotten to a place with your Dad where you actually feel like you two are connecting. Aren't you worried that this will just ruin everything you've got going with your Dad?"

Nick leans against the table, shrugging again. "Not really…I mean, it's your Mom," he reasons. "It's not like he's dating _my_ mom."

She doesn't find his poor taste in jokes funny, and she pulls her textbook back, opening it back up.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" Nick questions. "That you'll lose your mom?"

"No," she disagrees immediately.

He gives her another look.

"Maybe a little," she confesses. "It's always just been the two of us, and don't get me wrong, I really like your dad but…" she lets her sentence trail off, unsure of how to finish it. Sure, she had been hurt that she was practically the last to know about her mothers growing feelings for Sam, but it wasn't the root to her upset.

She liked Sam. He taught her how to drive and she had interned at his office. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that his feelings were genuine towards her Mom, and she could tell that those feelings were mutual.

"what if things don't work out, Nick?" She questions softly.

There had been Ryan, who she was certain her mother was going to date, and just when she had begun to warm up to the idea, he was gone. John, she'll admit, came completely out of nowhere for her and she could see that her mother had been caught up in the adventure and the possibilities that he had to offer.

It's probably why she hadn't seen what was at work between her Mom and Sam.

And as quickly as John had appeared in Middleton, he was gone too.

Nothing every seemed to last.

Except Sam.

"I guess I never really thought of that," Nick admits. "….my Dad really likes it here….and I kinda like it here too."

"Would you guys move back to New York?"

Nick leans back in his chair. "Maybe…look, I dunno what's gonna happen between your Mom and my Dad. What I do know is that life is about living, taking risks….my Dad is really into your Mom, and if I'm being honest…I like having her around too."

She looks up from her book to meet his gaze.

"You're not the only one that's missing someone, Grace."

She softens, feeling the longing he has for his Mom from across the table. She had been so focused on what she could lose, that she lost sight of all the things she could gain. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she nods. "I like having your Dad around too."

Nick nods, opening his own textbook. "….you never know; we might not lose anything."

Thinking that far ahead is unrealistic, but as she flips through the pages of her textbook, a calmness settles over her that has been missing for a few days.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Cassie, are you alright?" Stephanie worries.

The Bistro is busy, much like every noon hour as she slips onto a stool at the counter.

"She's in need of some lunch," Martha answers for her. "She's not quite herself."

Stephanie's expression changes to reflect her concern as she quickly bustles about the tiny Bistro. "You're in luck; I just made a fresh pot of Chicken Noodle soup."

She smiles gratefully as she places a bowl in front of her.

"Do you want me to call Sam?" Stephanie offers.

She shakes her head, testing a spoonful of soup. "He's got a busy day at the hospital-"

"-I think that's a wonderful idea, Stephanie," Martha cuts her off. "It wouldn't hurt to have the good doctor's opinion."

Stephanie already has her phone out before she can protest. "I'm calling him now!"

As the soup hits her stomach, she can already feel the warmth fill her, chasing away the uneasiness feelings that seemed to permeate inside of her only moments ago.

"Hi Sam, I've got Cassie here at the Bistro and she's not feeling well."

She shakes her head again. "I'm fine," she says softly.

Stephanie gives her a look, ignoring her. "She looks a little pail….Uh huh." She offers her the phone. "He wants to talk to you."

Taking the phone, she places it to her ear. "Hello Sam."

"Hi, tell me what's wrong."

The tell tale signs of the hospital are blaring in the background and she can tell that he's on the move. "Sam, you're busy-"

"-I have the time. Always," he reassures.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she lets his words settle a minute. Over the phone, she can hear him being paged before everything is considerably quieter.

"What's wrong?" He questions again.

"I've had a slight migraine all morning," she begins to explain.

"And?"

She exhales, rubbing her forehead. As much as she's learned his tells and mannerisms, he's gotten to know hers, and it comforts her.

She doesn't need to hide anything from him.

"I've felt a little lightheaded, unsteady," she admits softly. She can practically hear him thinking over the phone. "I'm fine-"

"-Stephanie wouldn't have called me if you were fine," he reasons. "Please don't downplay this. Not with me."

His concern is palpable.

"I've got a few minutes before I'm due at my practice…I'll swing by the Bistro on my way."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'm going to. I'll see you shortly."

She says goodbye, hanging up.

"Well?" Martha prompts.

She hands the phone back to Stephanie who slips it back into her pocket. "He's going to be here shortly."

"Perfect!" Martha exclaims. "I'll leave you in the capable hands of Dr. Radford. I hope you're feeling more like yourself soon, Cassie."

Giving Martha a smile, she nods. "Thank you for making sure I got here safely."

"Anytime," Martha smiles back.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

She hadn't seen him as he slipped into the Bistro behind her. While the Mayor had taken her towards the counter, Jackson Weld found an empty table off to the side, well enough out of her immediate line of sight.

He sat and watched her.

His appearance outside of her shop had been enough to cause discomfort, but now in each others presence, the effect was undeniable: Cassie Nightengale was vulnerable. He sat and watched as her discomfort grew, and a great deal of satisfaction filled him.

His great-grandfather might not have been able to do anything back then, but he certainly wasn't going to allow the Merriwick women, especially Cassie Nightengale who bore such a familial resemblance to her great grandmother, continue to live as if they hadn't ruined his family's name.

He will avenge his great-grandfather.

Whatever it takes.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The door to the Bistro closes heavily behind him and she turns from the counter, her gaze connecting with his. He can immediately tell that she's not herself in the crease between her brows, the pain held within her eyes.

"Hi," he greets softly.

"Hi," she greets back, rubbing her temples.

The noise and bustle of the Bistro is the last thing she needs right now, and he rubs her back. "Not so slight anymore?"

She manages to smile, shaking her head. "Not so slight," she agrees.

"Let me give you a quick exam." She begins to protest and he levels his gaze with hers. "Humour me? Please?"

From the corner of the Bistro, there's a loud crash and she winces, closing her eyes. Stephanie comes from the kitchen moving to help the man clean up the entire plate he's knocked onto the floor. He doesn't look familiar, and as he bends to help Stephanie, their eyes connect for a brief minute.

Cassie leans into him, her head dropping to his chest.

"You need some place quiet," he explains. "Let me take you to the office…I'll do a quick exam and then I'll take you home."

"Ok," she agrees softly.

Gathering her things, he wraps an arm around her waist as she leans into him.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

He's incredibly patient with her as he gives her the routine checks: blood pressure, temperature, pulse, eyes and ears. His hands are sure and steady and the competent way in which he works reassures her and the little bit of worry she feels. Away from the noise and bustle of the Bistro, she feels considerably better, though the ache behind her temples is persistent.

"I want to have a listen to your lungs."

She nods as he plugs his stethoscope into his ears. His hand slips under the back of her shirt and he places the diaphragm on her back, his eyes connecting with hers.

"Deep breathes," he instructs gently.

She inhales, watching the expression on his face remain unwaveringly calm, his gaze holding hers. He moves the diaphragm around her back a few times, and although she should be concentrating on her breathes, her focus is on the warmth of his hand and how she wants it against her skin. Wants him to splay his hand on the middle of her back just to feel his touch, his warmth.

Her shoulder is a breath away from his chest, and his close proximity stirs something inside of her. Reaching for his free hand she interlaces her fingers with his, holding it in her lap.

His thumb sweeps gently over the back of her hand.

"And exhale," he instructs softly.

She didn't realize that she was holding her breath, and she exhales, watching as his gaze drops to her lips for a split second before gathers himself.

He tugs the ear-tips from his ears, removing the diaphragm from under her shirt.

She shivers slightly at the loss of contact, looking away.

"Well, everything seems fine; your blood pressure is great, lungs are clear," he informs, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck. "You might have picked up a bug."

"Rest and hydration?"

He smiles gently. "I don't think it would be a bad thing, especially if you have picked up something….if you're not feeling like yourself in a few days, I would make an appointment with your doctor for further tests."

"What if I don't have a doctor?" She asks sheepishly.

The surprise crosses his face. "You don't have a doctor?"

She shakes her head.

"Lucky for you, I'm accepting patients."

"Your beside manner is excellent," she smiles.

He smiles back."You're an excellent patient."

"Then I'd say we're a perfect match."

His smile widens. "I think so too."

Tbc

(feedback most welcome!)


	4. Chapter 4

Music is always a great inspiration for me when I write. Check out the links below for the songs that inspired this update!

watch?v=3Qcv8gT7Mkc

watch?v=Il9ZQCAt_D0

4

Dropping her books on the kitchen counter, Grace is surprised to find her grandfather hovering over a pot at the stove. "Hey Grandpa," she greets.

George turns from the pot greeting her back with a smile. "Hey kiddo. How was your day?"

She shrugs noncommittally, leaning against the counter beside him. "It was ok. What are you making?" She peers into the pot curiously.

"My famous chilly. Your Mom is feeling a little under the weather and I thought I'd take over dinner duty so that she can rest."

Grace frowns. She hadn't felt her mother's presence when she arrived home. If she was sick, she would have felt it immediately. "Is she upstairs?"

George nods.

"I'll go see if she needs anything."

Leaving the kitchen, she heads upstairs to her mother's favourite spot. The fireplace is burning gently and the soft glow casts shadows across the walls and furniture. Her Mom is curled up on the couch, sound asleep.

There's a blanket laying on the back of the couch and she grabs it, laying it gently over her mother.

"Thank you," Cassie murmurs.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

Her mother smiles, waking from her sleep. "I'm glad you did." Pulling herself up on the couch, she makes room for her daughter beside her.

Grace hesitates a minute. Their argument from the night before still hangs between them and she's not sure if she's figured her feelings out yet.

"We don't have to talk about last night," Cassie offers.

Her mother's patience is what undoes her. Sitting beside her, she catches the tears as the well in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Cassie brushes her daughters hair off of her shoulder, rubbing her back. "You were upset and had every right to those feelings."

She shakes her head, wiping her eyes. "...I want you to be happy it's just...I don't know how much more I can lose."

"Oh honey," Cassie soothes. "I'm not going anywhere."

"...what about Sam?" She questions. "...Ryan and John were here one minute and now Ryan is in Chicago and John's in the Maldives."

Cassie exhales, nodding. "I didn't know you felt this way."

"I _really_ like Sam, Mom, and Nick...I don't want to wake up one morning and there be a for sale sign next door." Her mother is silent beside her and it's then she notices the cup of herbal tea and ginger capsules on the coffee table.

"I don't want that either," Cassie admits. "Sam and I have thought about the what if's and we think that the possibilities, the feelings we have for each other deserve a chance. We can't predict the future or avoid living our lives for fear of pain and change."

She knows she can't control what happens between her Mom and Sam anymore than she could control what happened to her Dad. And she knows the last thing her father would want would be for them to avoid living their lives.

"I think I just need time," she says softly.

"Of course," her mother soothes.

"I can see that you and Sam are really happy together….and I want you to be happy, Mom."

Her mother reaches for her, and she goes without hesitation into her embrace.

"I want you to be happy too, Grace."

She nods, drawing closer to her. That familiar electricity and warmth she's come to find comfort in her mothers embrace is missing, and Grace pulls back, studying her. "How are you feeling?"

"Not like myself, but I feel so much better now."

"Grandpa is making chilli; I'll bring you up a bowl when it's ready."

"That would be great, thank you, honey."

She leans in, giving her mother a kiss and another hug. "I love you."

"I love you too. More than the stars, the universe-"

"-the galaxy and the milky way," she finishes with a smile.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

It's later than he would like by the time he he gets home, and he half expects Nick to already asleep. The lights are still on when he walks in and Nick is up, waiting for him. There's pizza on the coffee table the gaming system on as he's mid game.

Tossing his brief case on the empty chair, he loosens his tie sitting beside him. "You didn't have to wait up."

"When you weren't home for dinner, I wan't sure what your day was like," Nick comments, pausing the game.

He's taken aback a minute. There had been plenty of nights where he had gotten home late to find their apartment in darkness, and Nick nowhere to be found. The fact that they've gotten here, to this place….he's not going to take it for granted.

"That means a lot to me, Nick."

His son nods, looking down. "I was reminded today of how much we've changed since coming to Middleton….how much better our relationship is."

He runs a hand down the back of his head, gripping his shoulder. "That's all I've ever wanted."

Nick twirls the joysticks on the controller between his thumbs, nodding. "You dating Cassie….it isn't going to change that, is it?"

"Of course not," he reassures. "You are the most important thing in my life." Nick holds his gaze and there's a worry in his eyes that he hasn't seen since he was a little boy. "You're worried about what happens if it doesn't work out."

"…I like it here. I don't want to move again and I've got friends here….really good friends."

He knows he's speaking of Grace and the thought of his son losing one of the best friendships he's ever had causes a tightness in his chest.

"….and I like having Cassie around," he reveals quietly.

He exhales deeply, leaning forward on his knees. "Yeah?"

The joysticks click and bend under his thumbs as his gaze drops to the controller in his hands. "…At first I thought it was kind of weird how she would just pop up places and seemed to know always what to do or say, but now….she's really down to earth and she actually listens to me," he shrugs his shoulders, his thumbs stilling. "She's never treated me like a screw up."

He's at a loss for words. Nick's jaw jumps several times before his thumbs go to work again. Sam reaches for the controller, taking it from his hands and placing it on the coffee table in front of them. "She means a lot to you, huh?" He questions.

"I know I shouldn't fee that way, I mean, I have a mom-"

He shakes his head, cutting him off. "-you have nothing to be sorry for. I get it, believe me, I get it."

Cassie makes everything so uncomplicated.

Nick leans forward on his own knees so that he's shoulder to shoulder with his father. "I know we don't really talk about stuff like this but…I just wanted you to know."

The regret washes over him. His son is a nervous wreck beside him and he regrets not making the time, not putting him first when he was younger. From the moment Linda had placed him in his arms, being his father has been the single most important job he would ever have, and yet somewhere along the way he lost sight of that. Somewhere along the way he put his career in front of him.

"We need to talk about stuff like this, ok?…I know I haven't been there and talking isn't exactly something I excel in, but I'm going to do better."

Nick simply nods, and he runs a hand down the back of his head again. "Would you rather that Cassie and I not do this?"

"I want you to do whatever makes you happy, Dad. I just needed you to know that I'm invested in this too."

He looks over at him and it's there in his eyes; Cassie fills that void his mother has never seemed to fill.

Rising from the couch, Nick turns off the gaming system, closing the box of pizza. "I'm going to head to bed."

Before he can leave the living room, he stops him. "Nick."

His son turns to face him.

"You're not a screw up." Sam watches the change in him, the way he withdraws as if to protect himself. His head drops as he shoves his hands into his pockets and the sight of it, watching his son shrink from his affirmation shakes him to his core.

He's responsible for this.

Every time he berated him for getting in trouble. Telling him that he was disappointed in him and his grades. His angry tone. His words.

For never seeing all the _good_ in his son.

His throat tightens at the lost little boy in front of him. Reaching for him, Sam pulls him into arms. "You're not a screw up and I'm sorry for making you feel as if you were."

Nick is still next to him.

"You're smart, and kind. You've got the best sense of humour and you're a great friend," he begins softly. "I'm so incredibly proud of you. I always have been."

Nick's arms band around him, his forehead dropping into his shoulder.

He cradles the back of his head."You are….the very best thing that has ever happened to me," he continues, his voice catching briefly. "…and I don't know what my life would be like without you. You're not a screw up," he repeats.

Nick's arms band around him tighter and he can feel the dampness seeping through his shirt at his shoulder. Kissing the side of his head, he holds him. "I love you, Nick."

"I love you too, Dad."

It's muffled and barely above a whisper, but he hears it.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Hi Sam," she greets just as he turns the corner, appearing in the den doorway.

"You heard me coming," he reasons, entering the room.

She smiles, pausing the movie she had been watching, scooting over as he joins her on the couch. "I didn't expect to see you tonight."

He nods, acknowledging how late it is, his hand coming to rest on her calves that are tucked beneath a fuzzy blanket. "I wanted to check in, see how you're feeling."

She doesn't doubt his concern, but there's something just below the surface that's weighing on him. "I'm feeling much better; thank you for checking on me."

He nods again, exhaling.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She questions.

He smiles, shaking his head. "Is it that obvious?"

Tilting her head, she gives him a reassuring look.

"Do you want me to start with how I've been a terrible father, or at the part where I may have screwed things up with Grace?"

She can feel his guilt as he leans forward on his knees, rubbing his face. "The beginning always seems to be a good place." He begins with his conversation that morning with Grace and her heart swells at hearing just how much he cares for her daughter.

"She made a comment about how I wasn't her father and I stupidly responded that I wasn't trying to be and the look on her face…" his voice trails off as he shakes his head. "….it felt like my insides were being twisted inside out. I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"I know you didn't," she comforts. "Grace knows that too, Sam."

He looks over at her. "Cassie…that day she was brought into the emergency room, my heart stopped. It was like it was Nick lying there and…" he exhales, rubbing his face again. "…I know I could never take the place of her father but I know there isn't anything I wouldn't do for her."

Tears prick the back of her eyes and she reaches for his hand, taking in into her own. "Sam…I don't know what to say," she admits, her voice catching. She has been worried from the moment he had agreed to teach Grace how to drive, of the attachment she could see her daughter developing. Grace had longed for that presence in her life, and she was grateful that Sam had been kind, going above and beyond what she could have ever asked. "Grace and I talked today and a big part of her fear is losing you. She's grown _so_ attached to you."

"Grace isn't the only one. Nick and I talked tonight and he's just as attached to you….Grace isn't the only one missing a parent."

As her surprise dissipates, she understands the worry he's feeling. "I feel the same way about Nick," she says softly. "I know what it's like to so desperately want your mother in your life."

He squeezes her hand, raising it to his lips, holding it there.

"He's a _great_ kid, Sam. He's been an incredible friend to Grace and he's grown so much since moving to Middleton. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for him either," she echos.

"So what do we do if this doesn't work out?" He questions.

Reaching for him, she lifts his gaze to meet hers. "The last thing either of us wants to do is disappoint Nick or Grace, right?"

He nods.

"That has to be enough," she reasons. "We're not walking into this relationship naively, Sam. We know what's at stake: there's a lot to lose, but _so_ much more to gain."

He smiles a little, exhaling. "You're right. We can't control the future only today. Right now."

"Right now," she repeats softly.

He holds her gaze for a long minute before speaking. "Thank you, for caring for Nick the way you do."

Leaning in, she presses her lips to his in a gentle kiss. "No thanks required."

He kisses her back just as gently, before dropping his forehead to hers. "I think I've reached my max word count for today."

She laughs, and he smiles, steeling another quick kiss.

"I should go," he announces.

Looking into his blue eyes, she nods. They're considerably calmer than when he arrived and they carry that familiar charm that causes a warmth in the pit of her stomach.

He presses another kiss to her lips as he rises from the couch. "Thank you for listening."

"Anytime." He heads for the door and she calls after him. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not a terrible father."

He stills in the doorway, deflating a little.

"You're allowed to make mistakes; don't be so hard on yourself."

Inhaling deeply, he nods. "Got it," he says softly.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

5

What she surely thought was going to be yet another uneventful day at her shop, changes in an instant when the tall, dark and oh-so-handsome stranger walks through her shop door. Abigail takes a minute to take him in, surprised at the sudden unease that settles inside of her.

"Can I help you with something?" She questions, circling the counter.

The man turns to face her, fingering the tulips she has on display. "That depends."

She comes to stand beside him at the display. "On what, exactly?"

"How well you know your flowers," he smiles.

There's something disingenuous in his smile and Abigail smiles back, titling her head. "I don't think I have what it is you're looking for."

He looks to the tulips, plucking the petals from the nearest display. "You haven't even asked me what it is I'm looking for." He drops the petals on the floor, one by one, before turning his attention back to her.

She doesn't react, not giving him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her. "And what would that be?"

"It's sometimes called a Meridian."

The door opens behind him and she inwardly exhales as Sam walks in. "Sam," she greets, side stepping tall, dark and intimidating.

"Hey…I was hoping to get some flowers."

"You've come to the right place! What can I get for you?"

Sam gestures to the man behind her. "I can wait if you're busy."

She waves him off. "Not at all. I don't have what this customer is looking for."

"Which is unfortunate," he comments, making no attempt at hiding his contempt.

"I doubt that," Abigail fires back. "Meridian's are nothing more than weeds. I'm saving whoever she is from having to pretend she likes them."

Sam clears his throat beside her as he attempts to swallow his smile.

"There's a park around the corner; you may find some there," She adds sweetly.

He doesn't respond, making sure to brush past her as he heads for the door.

"Hey!" Sam calls after him.

"Let him go, Sam. I'm fine." She heads back to the counter, reaching for her broom and dust pan.

He takes them from her, sweeping up the petals on the floor. "Has he been in here before?"

She shakes her head. "I've never seen him before."

Dumping the petals into the trash, Sam returns the broom and pan behind the counter.

"You didn't have to do that."

"You should have had to put up with that."

She's all too familiar with men like him and their misogyny. "With any luck, that'll be the last I see of him. You said you were looking for flowers?" The empathy in his eyes threatens to chip at her resolve, and she doesn't want Sam to think she is anything but strong and capable.

His jaw jumps a minute, before acquiescing the subject change. "I wanted to send some to Cassie. She's at home a little under the weather today."

"Something to brighten her day?" She watches the smile tug at his mouth and she can't help the one that tugs at her own. Her cousin is a lucky women. Sam had been nothing but kind to her the moment she showed up in Middleton, and despite her best efforts to have him fall under her own charm, it was clear even then the chemistry he shared with Cassie.

"That would be great," he agrees.

She goes about putting together a bouquet. "So, you two finally came to your senses."

Sam lets out a chuckle, nodding his head. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"I was worried for a minute that you'd let John whisk Cassie off to the Maldives."

"I wasn't going to stop her if that's what she wanted."

"You were willing to let her go?"

"I wanted her to be happy, whatever that looked like."

She wraps the bouquet, coming from around the counter. "That's very chivalrous of you, Sam. I can't say I would have done the same."

He accepts the bouquet, looking it over. "Love has to be selfless sometimes. Thank you; they're beautiful."

Abigail smiles. "Consider them a gift."

Sam gives her a look. "You sure Cassie isn't rubbing off on you?" He teases.

"Goodbye, Sam!" she sings, heading out back.

"Goodbye, Abigail!"

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Sam," she greets, a little surprised to see him standing on her front step. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was just on my lunch and decided to swing by and see how you're feeling, and to bring you these." He produces the bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

Smiling, she accepts them, stepping out of the doorway so that he can come in. "I'm feeling much better." She buries her noise in the bouquet, taking in their sweet smell. "They're beautiful, Sam. Thank you."

He follows her into the kitchen. "They pale in comparison."

She blushes a little, looking down. Sporting leggings, a t-shirt and a fuzzy pair of socks certainly isn't her most glamorous look, but she appreciates his words nonetheless. Setting the flowers on the counter, she turns to face him. "It's the fuzzy socks, huh?"

He lets out a chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. "Definitely the socks."

She leans in, giving him a kiss. "Thank you," she murmurs against his lips.

"No thanks required."

He begins to pull back, only she frames her hands around his face, keeping him against her lips a minute longer. Grey House is quiet for a change and she doesn't want to pass up a rare moment alone. Slipping her hands under his jacket, she wraps her arms around his waist. His shirt is crisp, cool, against her bare arms and it gives way under her tentative hands.

His lips still a minute, only a minute, before his hand slides around the small of her back tugging her closer. His hand is an enticing weight she hasn't felt in a long time, one she didn't realize she yearned for.

He tastes of coffee and smells of antiseptic; everything that she realizes is distinctly Sam. She slides her hands slowly up the firm columns in his back just as his other hand sifts through her hair.

The sudden want, the desire that fills her is swift and overwhelming.

She's acutely aware of the way her body feels pressed to his and the warmth that's blossomed inside of her. He's a solid presence, one that reassures her and has her wanting to submit to it all at the same time.

It's unexpected.

She pulls back suddenly, almost breathless.

Confusion crosses Sam's face. "Are you ok?"

What started in the pit of her stomach permeates the rest of her body in a heady, unfamiliar warmth. "I'm fine," she reassures, but judging by the look in his eyes, he's not buying it. She gives him another quick kiss before sliding out of his embrace.

The flowers lay forgotten on the counter and she takes them to the sink, filing a vase with water. Her legs feel a little like jelly, and she exhales in an attempt to calm that warmth that has unexpectedly caused her heart to flip inside her chest. "How's your day going?" She can feel his eyes on her as she moves about the kitchen.

The few steps between them does nothing.

His touch lingers, tingles on her skin.

The water in the vase overflows and she turns off the tap quickly.

"Fantastic."

She smiles, the heat rising in her face. Pouring some of the water out of the vase, she takes it and the flowers, heading to the sun room. He follows, and she sits at the table returning to what she had been doing before he arrived.

"What's all this?" he questions, gesturing to the boxes and photo albums.

"The Merriwick women are being honour at this years historic Middleton exhibit at the museum."

"That's great!" He pulls up a chair beside her, looking into the nearest box.

"I pulled some things from the attic hoping to find items for the exhibit."

He takes a minute to flip through one of the photo albums. "These are incredible, Cassie."

She nods, looking at the photos too. "It's remarkable how well they've held up over the years."

"You should think about having these scanned."

"That's not a bad idea."

"I'm known to have a few of those now and then," he jokes. He places the album back on the table. "I have to head back to work…I'll see you later?"

"I'll be here."

Leaning in, he kisses her gently. "Feel better."

It's a fleeting touch, his lips against hers, and yet he manages to excite something inside her anyway, all over again.

. . . . . . . . . .

At first, she'll admit she was distracted by her phone and didn't notice. It isn't until she passes the post office does Grace register the man that's only a few steps behind her. She moves to the inside of the sidewalk, giving him room to pass her.

Only he doesn't.

Concentrating on her steps, she tries not to think too much about it. Downtown Middleton isn't very big and it may just be that they're both heading in the same direction.

_This is Middleton_, she tells herself.

She passes the library, and the local drugstore, the pizza place and the bank. He's still only a few steps behind her and the uneasiness settles inside of her. She dares a quick glance over her shoulder, and he's got his hands in his pockets, his stride almost purposeful as he follows behind her.

There's a cross walk up ahead, and if she times it right, he'll get caught in the light. Slowing her steps, she watches the timer at the cross walk as it counts the remaining seconds left. There's only 5 seconds left, and she breaks into a light jog determined to catch the last few seconds. Her feet hit the curb just as the light changes and the traffic is in motion again.

Across the street, he waits at the crosswalk.

Grace exhales, not waiting around for the light to change.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Dr. Radford?"

Removing his glasses, he turns from his computer to Eve standing in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"I've got the hospital on line one-"

He shakes his head, returning to his computer. "-take a message, please-"

"-they said it was reallllllyyy important."

He smiles a little, turning around again. "Reallllllllyyy important?" He echos.

Eve smiles, nodding. "Something about the new hire in cardiology."

The hospital has been actively working to recruit a new cardiologist since he began his position as chief of staff. It has been the one thing on his year projection that is proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated. "Alright."

She closes the door behind her, and he accepts the blinking call on his phone. "Dr. Radford."

"Sam, I think we've got one! Top of her class, head of the department in Michigan. Published and on the up and coming in the field."

"What's the catch?" He questions.

"She's not sure Middleton is the right spot for her long term."

He leans back into his chair. He can certainly understand; he hadn't even heard of Middleton until an email from its mayor had showed up in his inbox. Leaving New York at the time had only been a consideration, but after looking up the small town, became more of a reality.

"How do we get her here?"

"We're flying her out at the end of the week, got a meeting set with the board, tour of the hospital-"

He shakes his head. "-that's not going to convince her to move here. She needs to see the town, meet the people-"

"-and who better to do that than you?"

Rubbing his face, he leans forward on his desk. "My schedule is packed."

"We need her here, Sam. Find the time."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Study hall.

The one block in his schedule that just doesn't make any sense to him. He doesn't study. At all. And why should he? Grace is a better teacher than most of his own and Nick knows if he had to put the fate of his history test on his own notes, he'd fail miserably.

The library is quiet for the most part, except for the hum of computers and the odd student typing away on their keyboard. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he opens up a new message to his dad.

_What's for dinner?_

His reply is immediate, a lull in his schedule no doubt. _Uhhhhhhh…..pizza?_

He's had pizza every night this week and normally he'd be alright with yet another solid choice of pep and cheese, but he's got another idea in mind.

_Pass…. I was thinking that maybe we could order something and take it over to Grey House?_

Grace had told him earlier in the day how her mom was home sick, and the last thing he'd want to do if he was sick would be to cook.

Chewing at his lip, he waits for his dad's response.

Ok, if he's completely honest, he wants to make sure Cassie is doing alright. Grace didn't seem all that worried but you learn a lot of things when your dad's a doctor; his mind had been racing all morning.

The three bubbles finally appear as his Dad replies back._ Tai?_

_Is that Cassie's fav?_ He can practically hear the million and one questions, the look on his Dads face through the phone.

_It is._

_Tai it is then_, he replies back. His Dad sends him back a thumbs up emoji, and he shakes his head, laughing a little, wondering when he figured out how to even find the emoji's on his phone.

. . . . . . . . . .

Grace swings open the door just as Nick is about to knock. His face twists into disbelief and she bites her lip trying to hide her laugh.

"You saw us coming," he deduces.

"What's in the bag?" She questions, trying to get a peak.

Nick pulls the bag back, away from her prying eyes. "Depends on whether or not you're going to let us in."

She looks between him and Sam, who has stayed surprisingly quiet. A pang of guilt niggles at her for how she left things the other morning with him. She catches his eye a for a brief minute before stepping out of the doorway. "It's Tai, right?"

Nick shakes his head, stepping inside. "How do you do that?!"

Sam steps inside behind his son, and she closes the door behind them. "It's my Mom's favourite, and some people pay attention to things like that."

Nick looks over at his Dad, who simply smiles, heading into the kitchen. "I pay attention to stuff!"

Sam's deep chuckle carries from the kitchen, and Grace can't help but laugh with him. "We'll give this one to your Dad." She follows Nick into the kitchen, going to the cupboards to gather some plates.

"Where's your Mom?" Sam questions.

"She was upstairs resting." Setting the plates on the island, she strums her fingers on the china in an attempt to reconcile her fears with the present, the future that she doesn't have any control over. "…do you maybe want to go see if she's up?"

Surprise crosses Sam's face as Nick stills, looking between the two of them.

"Are you sure?"

She nods. "Yeah."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

His feet carry him upstairs almost on autopilot, his mind still attempting to catch up with the curveball Grace had just pitched him. He had been practicing what he was going to say to her all afternoon, even wrote it down a few times, determined not to mess it all up again. He was going to apologize and explain how much he really cared for her mother and then end with how sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith and hope that everything turns out alright.

It wasn't his most articulate speech, he'll admit, but it was all he could string together in between patients.

The olive branch she gave him downstairs is a tiny step, he knows, and he has a ways to go in reassuring Grace that this leap of faith is the right thing.

His feet come to a halt at the top of the stairs and it's then that he realizes that he's never been upstairs at Grey House. The den is off to his right and it's clear by it's darkness that it's empty. There's half a dozen rooms upstairs, all of which he quickly gathers are guests rooms by the numbers on each door.

At the end of the hallway is another staircase he had no idea even existed to the next level. Heading up yet another flight of stairs, he finds a handful of more rooms, most of which are situated at one end of the hall, with a single one at the other end. Quick reasoning has him knocking gently on the single door at the other end of the hall.

There's no answer, and he contemplates whether to let himself in, or head back downstairs. He knocks again, calling out to her. "Cassie?"

Still no answer.

Sighing, he twists the doorknob popping his head inside the room. The curtains aren't drawn and the last bit of sunlight filters across the room gently. Everything about the space reflects the woman that's sound asleep in the queen sized bed; elegant and warm with just a hint of mystery.

Closing the door behind him, his footsteps are lost among the plush carpet as he makes his way over to the bed. There's a book laying beside her, forgotten, and he sets it on the night stand as he sits carefully on the edge.

"Cassie?" He whispers gently. She doesn't stir, and he touches her shoulder, calling again. "Cassie."

Her brows knit together as she stirs. "Sam?"

"Yeah." He rubs up and down her arm as she rubs her eyes, yawning. "How are you feeling?"

She stills a minute, as if to take stock. Her eyes flutter open and a slow smile tugs at her lips. "Like myself."

That spark in her eyes, the one that he's sure will bring him to his knees someday, settles in his chest causing a warmth to slide over him. "Am I ever glad to hear that."

Sitting up, she settles mere inches from him. Her hair is a little tossed and he brushes it back from her eyes, his gaze dipping to her lips for a brief second.

"I had a really great doctor."

Her voice is still a little thick with sleep and the breathy way in which she speaks stirs something inside of him.

He wonders what it would be like to wake up next her, like this.

"Nick and I brought over some Tai." Her eyes light up and he chuckles. "I take it your appetite is back too."

"It is when you bring my favourite."

"It's ready whenever you are." He makes to get up, only she takes his hand tugging him back down in front of her.

"Not so fast." Leaning in, she presses her lips to his softly. Her hand comes to cup the back of his head and her fingers sift gently into his hair.

A shiver travels down his back and he stifles the moan that wants to travel up his throat. Something shifts between them. The air changes. Her lips hesitate for a second and he thinks for a minute to pull back, and then she's nudging his lips with her own and he welcomes the warmth of her mouth as it tentatively caresses his own.

Her hand slides out of his hair down his chest and when she pushes against him, he pulls back immediately. Her eyes reassure him that she's fine, and he relaxes a fraction. The emotions in her eyes are reminiscent of the look she gave him after their kiss earlier in the day, and he isn't any less concerned about what she's feeling right now.

"Cassie….I need you to talk to me, tell me what's going through that mysteriously gorgeous head of yours."

She smiles a little, shaking her head. "I'm sorry-"

"-you have nothing to be sorry for," he reassures.

She brushes her bangs out of her eyes, looking down. "….I haven't felt this way about someone in a very long time….I guess I'm a little out of practice."

He can tell that she's embarrassed and he reaches for her hand, interlacing their fingers. "That makes two of us."

She squeezes his hand before lifting her gaze to his.

He's sure to hold her gaze, let his own guard down to reflect the vulnerability that's looking back at him. "We can figure it out together."

She smiles, titling her head in that way. "I'd like that."

He kisses their joined hands, rising from the bed, tugging her with him. "You know what they say though?" She's still got her fuzzy socks on and it makes him smile.

"What's that?"

"Practice makes perfect."

Her smile widens as she steps into him, landing into his chest. "How much practice?"

"A lot. Definitely a lot."

She laughs, pressing her lips to his.

tbc

feedback most welcome :)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 "Nick! Grab the door please!" His Dad yells from upstairs. Unfolding himself from the couch, Nick heads for the door shoving his phone into his pocket. Through the window he sees Cassie standing outside, and he swings open the door. "You don't have to ring the bell, you know." He steps out of the doorway, heading back into the living room. "Dad! Cassie's here!" He yells, flopping back down on the couch. Cassie closes the door behind her, following Nick into the living room. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to just walk in." Nick shrugs. "You're not exactly a guest, Cassie. You and my Dad are dating." She nods. "Well in that case, know that you can do the same at Grey House." Nick gives her a sheepish look. "I kinda already do….Grace said it was alright." She smiles, happy that he and Grace are such good friends. "I'm glad you feel comfortable to do so….I came by hoping that you could help me with something?" "Sure." "I want to plan a special dinner for your Dad, and I was hoping you could help me with some of his favourite dishes." "Easy: chicken Alfredo, yellow cake with chocolate frosting….do you want to do it here? Grace and I are working on our trig assignment later over at your place; you guys could have the house to yourselves?" She's a little surprised at how easy going he is about all of this. "You don't mind?" He breaks out into his signature crooked grin. "Beats walking in on you two making out in the kitchen," he teases. Laughing, she offers him a sympathetic look. "That's fair." Sam makes his way downstairs, his shoes heavy on the hardwood. He's doing his tie, his jacket slung over his arm. "Hey." "Hey," she greets back. "Are you heading out?" He nods, tossing his coat on the arm of the couch. "Yeah, I've got a meeting at the hospital." Without a mirror, he's got his tie uneven, and he unties it, tying it again. "What are you doing later?" Rising from her seat, she goes to him taking the tie from him. She folds it under his collar. "Not sure yet," she answers casually. "I'm going to go now," Nick announces. "Before you two…you know," he jokes. Sam shakes his head at his son. "I'll see you later!" "Yep!" Nick calls after him, taking the stairs two at time up to his room. "I didn't think he'd be this uncomfortable," he comments. She takes her time with his tie. "He's a teenager, Sam," she laughs lightly. "Everything you do is going to be awkward and weird to him…I think he just likes to tease us." "That would be something he would do," Sam agrees. Straightening the knot, she admires her work. She loves this particular tie and the way it makes his eyes brilliantly blue. His arms slide around her waist and she steps into him, landing into his chest. "What are you doing later?" She questions back. "Not sure yet…I was hoping to see you." "I was hoping to see you too." "Yeah?" She smiles. "Yeah." Pulling away, he grabs his jacket, slipping into it. "I'll call you later then?" Taking hold of his tie, she tugs him back towards her. Mating her lips to his, she nods. "Do that." He kisses her back gently and as he pulls back, the words form, but fall unspoken between them. He holds her gaze for a minute and it's there, all in his eyes, and she waits with bated breath. "….I better go." Exhaling, she nods with a smile. "Of course. I'll see you later." . . . . . . . . . . . . His gaze may be on the file in front of him but his attention is elsewhere, currently trying to analyze the feelings that have caught him completely off guard. He had almost said it. _I love you._ He rubs his forehead, trying to concentrate. He can count on one hand the women he has said those words too and looking back on it now, he's not entirely sure if he understood the magnitude of them then because this feels different. The words were there, on their own and it had felt natural. _Right_. Was it too soon? It had to be. They had only been dating a few weeks, but yet he has felt connected to Cassie almost immediately since moving to Middleton. He smiles to himself, quickly trying to hide it as he steeples his hands at his mouth. Seeing her with Ryan never sat well with him, and even though he had never acknowledged it then, he can recognize it now for what it was; he was jealous. When he had found out he was behind her potentially loosing Bell, Book and Candle, it took every fibre of his being to not confront him. With John he had felt as if he was in constant competition for her friendship. At least that's what he had told himself. _He loved her then_. Rubbing his face, he exhales audibly. "Dr. Radford, are you alright?" He refocuses on the meeting carrying on around him. "I'm fine, please, continue." . . . . . . . . . . . . She's just pulling the cake from the oven when she hears him making his way through the front door. His keys clatter in the bowl in the hallway, his briefcase dropping with a thud on the floor. "Nick, are you baking?" He calls. As he enters the kitchen loosening his tie, he stops short at the sight of her. "Cassie," he greets, surprised. "Hi. How was your meeting?" Approaching the island, he leans against it. "Long…is that yellow cake?" The smile reaches his eyes and she gives him a coy one of her own. "Maybe." He takes stock of his kitchen, the pasta boiling on the stove, the chicken browning in the cast iron pan he's sure he doesn't own himself. "Are you making Chicken Alfredo?" "I might be," she smiles. "Any particular reason why?" He presses. Wiping her hands, she circles the island, leaning against it next to him. "There have been…a lot of things that I've been unsure of the past few weeks, and that's something I'm not used to," she begins. "…and you've been, so steady and so reassuring." He reaches out, rubbing her arm gently. His touch ignites gently on her skin and she recognizes the familiar burn in the pit of her stomach, the awakening it's caused inside of her. It's the sureness in which he soothes her, the warmth and weight of his hands that steady her when her thoughts are scattered. "I wanted to do something to show you how much that's meant to me." As he holds her gaze, she's certain of the feelings that are settling inside of her. The ones that she's felt for a while now. His hand slides down to take her own in his. "I appreciate it, I do, but I want you to know that you don't have to thank me, and you don't have to have it all together with me; you can let me carry the load sometimes, Cassie. " She's never thought herself to be a hesitant person, especially when it came to her own feelings, but she feels it now. After Jake had died she had told herself that she wouldn't close herself off, that she would open herself up that way again when the opportunity presented itself. She's gotten used to baring it all herself. "Noted," she says softly. He gives her a reassuring look before changing the subject. "How long until it's ready? I want to grab a quick shower." "You've got time." His gaze holds hers for a brief second before he pecks her quickly on the lips, heading upstairs. . . . . . . . . . . . . When he finally returns to the kitchen, she's just finished plating the pasta. The remnants of his shower linger with him and she inhales the alluring smell she's come to recognize and find comfort in. "Perfect timing," he comments, pushing the sleeves of his sweater to his forearms. Sam can carry a suit, and surprisingly, scrubs, but there's something about the way he dresses down. As much as being a doctor is a part of him, she's certain he's always been meant to live in a small town like Middleton. Sporting a pair of jeans and a simple sweater, she takes a minute to just appreciate him. His shoulders are broad and his arms sculpted, but she loves his hands. The whether from years of scrubbing in. The strength and skill they wield on a daily bases. The way their presence lingers across her skin. He grabs the glasses and the bottle of wine from the counter, pouring them each a glass before pulling out her chair. She sits and he tucks the chair in under her before taking his own seat across from her. "This looks great, Cassie." She folds her napkin into her lap, taking a sip of her wine. "Here's hoping it tastes as good." He gives her a look. "You're an excellent cook, unlike me." He takes his first bite, savouring it. "So, where is Nick?" "Oh, he's next door with Grace; they had a trigonometry assignment they were working on." "Nick chose trig over this?" He questions, taking another bite. Using a fork and spoon, she twirls a forkful of her own pasta. "He actually offered to give us the evening alone." Sam pauses, his eyebrows shooting up. "He did?" She nods, taking a bite. He reaches for his glass, taking a sip. "How were things at Bell Book today?" "Great; Tara did such a fantastic job taking over yesterday. She's such a great help. How was your meeting? You never said what it was about." He takes a minute to chew. "You know how we've been searching for a new cardiologist?" She nods. "Well, the recruitment team thinks they might have found someone." "That's great!" He bops his head back and forth. "She's not sold on Middleton yet….the board actually wants me to show her around when she gets here at the end of the week." "I think that's a great idea, Sam. I can't think of anyone better." "You, maybe?" He counters with a smile. "I don't know if I can sell this place, Cassie…she's young and single; Middleton isn't exactly up and coming." She twirls more pasta onto her fork. "Well, I think Middleton just might be what she's looking for." "Maybe. Who knows." . . . . . . . . . . . . He's just finished loading the dishwasher, and he grabs the bottle of wine off the table heading into his living room. She's made herself comfortable on the couch and he likes the sight of her in his space like this. He refills both their glasses before settling in beside her. "Dinner was fantastic. Thank you." She angles her body in towards him and he rests a hand on her thigh. "You're welcome," she says softly. It may be the wine, but her eyes have softened to a smooth chocolate. They're more settled than he's seen the past few days and that familiar sparkle has turned to a soft ember. "So I was thinking." "What about?" "The potential new cardiologist. Do you have any rooms available at Grey House?" "I do at the end of the week. She's more than welcome to have a room." He settles back into the couch, taking a sip of his wine. "I don't know how to convince her that Middleton is the right place for her." Her hand interlaces with his at her thigh, and she rests her head on his shoulder. "What was it that convinced you?" "Besides Martha's Pumpkin Pie?" She laughs. "Besides that." He presses his lips to the top of her head. "You." It's a minute before her head lifts from his shoulder and her gaze meets his. "You're what convinced me." "Me?" "You," he repeats, nodding his head. Her gaze is expectant and he opens his mouth, only the words don't come. "DAD!" She unfurls from him just as Nick barrels into the living room, Grace, Brandon and Derek right behind him. "What's wrong?" She questions. "It's the Bell Book," Grace blurts, looking over at Brandon. "Brandon?"Cassie prompts. Brandon shifts on his feet. "It's been vandalized." He rises from the couch just as she does. "How bad?" Brandon looks down, and Derek clears his throat. "It's extensive," he answers. . . . . . . . . . . . . The car is silent as he pulls up behind the police cruiser in front of the Bell, Book and Candle. He hasn't come to a full stop when she opens the passenger door, climbing out. As he circles the car, the full scope of the damage slams into him. The store windows have been smashed, the front door dangling precariously on its hinges. Black spray paint covers the store front in bold, repeating script. _Fraud._ _Lair._ _Thief._ He can't read anymore as his blood boils. There's police tape blocking off the entrance, but she ignores it and Dereks protests as she ducks underneath it and inside. He does the same and the broken glass crunches under his feet. There's not much to salvage inside. "Cassie, this is an official crime scene," Derek begins gently. "You can't touch anything." She nods silently, the tears welling in her eyes. He can feel the weight of her pain filling what's left of her shop, and he turns towards Brandon and Derek. "Could you give us a minute?" They both nod, stepping outside again. He steps over broken vases and glasses, standing beside her. Sliding his hand up her back, he settles at the nape of her neck, pressing his lips to the side of her head. "Let me carry this, Cassie," he whispers. She turns into him and he cradles her in his arms, holding her together as she falls apart. tbc. 


	7. Chapter 7

As always, music plays a big part in my writing. Check out the link below for the song that inspired this update! Thanks for viewing, and reviewing!

watch?v=fsP9BXFOL2o

watch?v=IQ7N7xRsRPo

7

Derek, Brandon and Sam are talking but the only thing she hears, feels, is the deafening silence around her. The connection she has always felt to her shop is gone. There's no low hum, no warmth.

Looking around, the memories come flooding back.

This is where she first met Jake.

It will take weeks, months, before she can re-open, if she can at all. Finically, she's not even sure she can recover from all the merchandise that lay broken on the shelves and floor.

The warmth of Sam's hand brings her out of her fog as it slides up and down her back. They've finished talking and are looking at her expectantly, only she's not sure any words will come.

There's a presence, an anger, that invades every fibre of her being.

Suffocating her.

It causes her stomach to churn.

"There isn't anymore we can do tonight," Sam reasons.

The timber of his voice, the steady way in which he speaks provides something to cling to amid the chaos inside of her.

Steady.

They're talking again and Sam's hand slips into hers. She clings to it tightly, squeezing. Anchoring herself.

"Cassie?"

His voice is muffled, distant.

Nausea sweeps over her.

She can't be in here.

The cool night air hits her abruptly and she inhales deeply, attempting to keep the contents of her stomach from making a violent exit. Sam is there and he's reaching for her, bringing her into him. She exhales, letting the strength of his arms that wrap around her tightly be enough for now.

"I can't be here," she whispers into his shoulder. "Something's not right." The longer she stands in that presence, the more she can feel the anger in its intent. Sam's pulling her back to meet his gaze and she can tell that he's looking her over for some form of ailment. "Can you take me home?"

"Of course."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

It's late when he finally pulls into Grey House and he isn't surprised at the lights that are still on inside. As he parks, he looks over at her, reaching for her hand. Her fingers twine with his immediately as she holds his hand between her own.

"What do you need me to do, Cassie?" He questions softly.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she shakes her head, wiping her eyes again quickly. "You've done enough, Sam…."

She's quite a minute before she slips out of the car, and he exhales, taking a second to gather himself before following. Just as he had expected, Grace, Nick, Abigail and George are waiting for them in the kitchen.

They're all silent and it's Abigail who has the courage to ask. "How bad is it?"

Leaning against the island, she puts on a brave face, even though he knows how utterly broken she is on the inside.

"It's bad," she answers.

There's a collective sadness that fills the room, but none is greater than her own that's held just below the surface.

"Mom," Grace soothes, sliding off her seat at the island an into her mothers arms. "I'm so sorry."

Cassie envelops her tightly, giving her comfort. "Me too, honey."

"Do they know who did it?" Nick asks.

She looks over at him, and she's a little more pale than she was only minutes prior. "No…there were no security cameras," he answers. "But Derek is going to pull the footage from the Bank across the street to see if it picked up anything on its system."

George shakes his head, exhaling. "We'll fix this, Cassie. The Bell, Book and Candle has been a fixture in this town; Middleton always comes together when one of us is in need, I'm sure of it."

She manages a smile, and he notices the way she reaches for the counter to steady herself.

"I know we're all pretty shook up right now," he begins, "…but there really isn't anything more we can do tonight."

"A man of reason," Abigail comments. "It's late and if we're all going to 'come together' as George says, we're going to need some rest."

It's a shuffle around the kitchen as everyone says goodnight, hugging and reassuring Cassie that everything will be ok. Nick is sure to offer her a hug, and his chests tightens at the way his son hugs her just a minute longer, the way Cassie cradles the back of his head giving him kiss on the cheek as he pulls back.

"I'll be over in a bit," he offers as Nick passes him on his way out.

"I'd be alright if you weren't," Nick comments back, nodding toward Cassie who's moved towards the stove, putting the kettle on. "I'll text you if I need anything."

He grips his sons shoulder and Nick gives him a reassuring look before he heads home. It's just the two of them and he moves to stand beside her at the stove.

"My hands won't stop shaking," she says softly.

Turning the burner off, her takes her hands into his own, checking her pulse. "That's a natural response given what just happened." Her pulse is strong, but her hands are still shaking in his own, her complexion pale. "Are you feeling light-headed?"

She nods. "A little."

Guiding her to the table, she sits and he kneels in front of her. "Follow my finger." He watches her gaze as he moves his finger vertically and horizontally. "When we were at your shop, you said something didn't feel right. What did you mean?"

She rubs her forehead, closing her eyes. "….. I don't know what I meant I just…" her voice trails off and she shakes her head. "…I'm tired and confused and I'm feeling…." Her voice catches and the tears trickle down her face.

He eases her into him and her arms wrap tightly around him as she rests her head on his shoulder.

"….really overwhelmed right now," she finishes into his shoulder.

"Ok," he soothes, rubbing her back, kissing the back of her head. She's trembling next to him and although she was able to follow his finger, the way she was holding the counter for balance has him worried. "You're tired; that's something we can fix." She pulls back and he wipes the remaining tears from her eyes with the pads of his thumb.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

She takes her time in the bathroom, slipping easily into autopilot and her nighttime routine. Grey House had provided a reprieve from the crippling presence she felt at her shop, and she knows a great deal of that has to do with the man that's currently in her room, tossing the pillows on the armchair and turning down the covers.

She tries not to think about that too much.

Flicking off the bathroom light, she heads back into her bedroom, dressed in a simple t-shirt and sweats. He's sitting on the edge of her bed, finishing up a text before he shoves his phone back into his pocket.

"There's more than one pair?"

He's gesturing to her feet and the fuzzy pair of socks she unconsciously put on. A small smile tugs at her lips and it's enough to lift her spirits even just a tiny bit. "There is," she nods.

He rises from the bed, stepping towards her. Rubbing her arms, his gaze levels with hers and a calmness slides over her. "You going to be ok?"

She's not entirely sure but she nods anyway, giving him the reassurance he needs.

"Call me if you need anything; I'm only next door."

"I will."

His gaze holds hers a long moment before he leans in to press a kiss to her lips. She returns it, wanting to pull him back when he pulls away.

She doesn't want him to go.

"Ok."

"Ok," she repeats.

He heads for the door and he gives her one last look over his shoulder before he closes the door behind him. Exhaling, she wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to sooth the sudden loneliness she's feeling.

She doesn't want to be strong right now. In control. The one that cares for everyone and knows just what to say.

She doesn't want to be alone anymore.

Not now.

Crossing the room, she reaches for the door hoping to catch him before he's left, only she finds him standing on the other side.

Her chest tightens, her heart fluttering for just a minute.

"I know this may make you uncomfortable but I've done this, so many times on my own," she begins.

He's stepping towards her, inching his way back into her room.

"…and you don't have to say yes…"

He closes the door behind him, kicking off his shoes.

"…I don't want to be alone tonight."

His hands frame her face just as he's leaning into to press a kiss to her lips. Sliding her arms around his waist, she steps into him. "Stay?" she breathes against his lips.

Pulling back, his thumbs sweep over her face gently. "I'm not going anywhere," he reassures.

She crawls between the sheets of her bed and although she feels a bit of nervousness, his arms settle her as he slides in behind her, wrapping her in his embrace. Her hand finds his and she weaves their fingers together, tucking it under her chin.

She wants to tell him how much she loves him. And not just because he's here, like this, right now. But for all the little things along the way.

For the way he challenged her when they first met.

For every mailbox conversation.

For trusting her with his problems.

For his friendship.

For offering to buy back her shop.

For never pushing her.

For calling her beautiful.

For making her laugh.

For the way he loves her daughter.

For the way he_ loves _her.

His lips press against the crown of her head, and she closes her eyes, letting the words hang unsaid between them.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The empty cans of spray paint spill out of his bag as he drops it on the ground next to him. Standing outside of the Middleton Museum, the streets are empty for this time of night. Plastered all over the windows are flyers for the upcoming Historical Middleton exhibit.

Featuring the Merriwick women.

He rips the flyers from the windows, making sure to leave all but one laying all over the sidewalk, folding it into his pocket.

His encounter with the cousin had left him displeased. She has a fire inside of her that can't easily be swayed, no matter what lengths he had gone through to intimidate her. The girl, on the other hand, was an easy target. He hadn't planned on seeking her out but when their paths crossed that afternoon downtown, he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity.

She practically ran across the street.

If he can't find any more of what he needs to follow through on his incantations, using Cassie Nightengale's daughter may prove to be an enticing back up plan. It would only be fitting, since her great-grandmother, Laurel, cursed his great-grandfather and their entire lineage.

It would only be retribution, after all.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The first signs of the day filter through the tiny cracks in her blinds, casting rays across the bed. Sam is still sound asleep beside her and she takes the reprieve to just be, and feel, everything about this moment.

At some point throughout the night he has removed his sweater, belt and socks, as they lay on the chest at the foot of her bed. His watch and cellphone are on the nightstand and she likes the sight of his things in her space.

She likes having him here, like this, with her.

The cotton of his t-shirt is soft against her cheek as she curls further into him. She's craving his warmth, his very presence next to her and she almost wishes he was awake so that he could wrap her in his arms again.

Her skin tingles at the thought of having his own pressed against hers, and she's acutely aware of the fact that they both have an uncharacteristic amount of clothing on right now.

She usually doesn't sleep in sweats and a tshirt, and she's sure he's not fond of sleeping in jeans.

It's something about having him here, in her bed, that stirs feeling inside of her she hasn't felt in a long time. She thought for sure it hadn't been as long for him, but the vulnerability in his eyes the other night held the truth; they were going to figure it out together.

She slides her arm around his waist, sensing the change in him as he begins to stir. His hand coasts up her arm and she shivers next to him, a physical reaction to his touch. His arm curls her closer into him and there's no hesitation on her part.

"Morning." His voice is soft, smooth and it slides over her right down to her toes.

"Morning," she echos gently. His fingers sift through her hair and she closes her eyes, content to lay in the silence with him.

His lips press to her forehead. "Should I go?"

It's early still, and as much as she'd like a few more minutes to just be here, with him, she has her daughter, guests and her shop to think about. Sitting up, she tucks her hair behind her ear. "Yeah, probably." The bed dips as he climbs out and she can't help but reach for him, letting her hand slide down his back as he rises. She's silent as he moves about her room putting himself back together.

There's a lot unsaid hanging between them and he fiddles with his watch longer than necessary as he attempts to find the words. "…I'm going to head home, check in with Nick but then I'll be back-"

"-Sam, you don't have to-"

"-don't have to what?" He questions. "Cassie….I love you. I'm in love with you and…" he sits on the bed, shaking his head. "…just let me love you," he pleads gently. "Just let me love you."

Tears well in her eyes and he reaches out to catch them with the pad of his thumb. "I love you too," she says softly.

He exhales, smiling. "That's a good thing, huh?"

She laughs a little, scooting across the bed to press her lips to his. "Yeah."

He holds nothing back as he returns her kiss, catching her around the waist and bringing her to straddle his lap. His hands frame her face, and he kisses her gently again before pulling back. "I'm going to go home, check in with Nick. Then I'm going to come back here, and we're going to go to your shop, where we're going to figure this out together."

She lets her hands trail up and down his chest, nodding. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Tbc


	8. Chapter 8

Only 10 more days until Season 5! Are you as excited as I am?!...an update to tide us all over until then! Feedback most welcome!

8

"Ok! Listen up people, here's the plan!" The small crowd of Middletonians that have congregated outside of the Bell, Book and Candle all grow quiet, turning to face her. Abigail addresses the crowd. "Cassie and Sam will be here within the hour, and the plan is to have them arrive to see us in full swing, coming together to help one of our own." The crowd claps, and she smiles. "Ben and George, you're in charge of replacing the windows and door. Brandon and Derek, you're on removing the spray paint on the store front. Tara, you've got the clean up inside and ensuring that anything that can be salvaged, is. Everyone else, lend a hand where you think you can!"

The crowd disperses in front of her, and she exhales, satisfied with herself.

"And what exactly are _you _going to do?" Stephanie questions.

"Someone needs to be in charge," she reasons.

Stephanie rolls her eyes, heading inside to help Tara. Fishing out her phone, she sends a quick text to Sam.

_Everything is under control here. How are things on your end?_

His response is immediate, and she appreciates his promptness.

_We're getting there._

Abigail chews her lip. Grey House had been teeming with her cousins grief, so much so that it was almost suffocating.

_Is it bad? _She texts back. When he doesn't respond right away, worry settles inside of her. One thing she's come to intuit about her cousin is that her emotions are strong; she loves hard, whole-heartedly, caring to a fault.

When she's hurting, she _hurts_.

_Scale of one to ten? _She texts.

_10\. You take care of things at the shop, I'll take care of things here. Trust me._

Tears have unexpectedly welled in her eyes and she quickly wipes them away. Sure, she's put on her confident face and ordered everyone around but on the inside, she's just as shaken as everyone else; things like this don't happen in Middleton.

And not to Cassie.

When she had seen the damage herself a sense of loss filled her she hadn't been expecting. The hateful words spray painted across the store front had stirred an anger inside of her she's yet to let go of because she knows they're the furtherest thing from the truth. She knows how they are eating at Cassie, how they have crippled her otherwise confident spirit.

She can _feel_ it.

Wiping her eyes again, she texts back._ I trust you. See you soon._

. . . . . . . . . .

He's trying to be patient and not hover, but she's moving around Grey House with no apparent purpose. She's frazzled, he can tell, and it's so uncharacteristic of her he's not sure what to do.

"Have you seen my keys?" She finally questions.

He grabs them off the side table in the hall, where she always keeps them. "Right here." She gives him a grateful look, and he gives her a patient one of his own. "Talk to me."

She exhales, sweeping her bangs out of her eyes. "I don't know how to fix this, Sam. Financially, I don't even know if I_ can_ fix this; there is_ so _much damage. I'm a single parent and I need that second income…I've come close to losing my shop before and I think….I think this time I just might."

Tears have welled in her eyes and he tugs her into his arms. Her head rests in the crook of his shoulder and he just holds her for a few minutes.

"We need to take this one step at a time, Cassie," he reasons gently. "Right now, we can work on the clean-up. That's what we can focus on right now."

"You're right." She pulls back, wiping her eyes. "My mind has been going in a million different directions and I need to just focus on what I can do right now."

He rubs up and down her arms, feeling the tension fall from her just a little. "I love you."

A smile slips across her lips. "I love you too. Thank you for just…." She exhales, shrugging a shoulder. "…being _here._ Being _you_."

"No thanks required."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Abigail spots Sam's SVU as he pulls up in front of the Bell, Book and Candle. As the passenger door opens the look on her cousin's face at the sight of them all there, manages to bring tears to her eyes for the second time. Everyone halts what they're doing as Cassie and Sam walk through the door George and Ben have fixed back to its hinges.

Cassie looks around at them all. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Martha offers. "You've done so much for this town that we knew we had to do something for you."

Her hand goes to her chest as she wipes her eyes. Sam is there, sliding an arm around her. Her cousin leans into him and it's such a simple gesture, yet it means more than she thinks even Cassie understands.

"Thank you. All of you, Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Now that you're here, you can tell us what you want to do with everything," Stephanie comments, gesturing to the piles of broken and salvageable merchandise.

As Cassie, Tara and Stephanie begin to sort, Abigail snags Sam, pulling him aside. "So, was that you I saw sneaking out of Grey House this morning?"

"I wasn't _sneaking_," Sam defends.

Abigail smirks. "So it was you! You're having sleepovers now?"

Sam shakes his head, blushing a little. "It wasn't like that-"

"-like what?" She teases. "Are you two being safe?"

Sam gives her a pointed look and she can't help but laugh a little. "I'm teasing you. Relax."

"She didn't want to be alone and I didn't want to leave her."

Abigail softens. "Cassie's been alone for a long time. I'm glad she has you to support her."

Sam exhales, rubbing his jaw. "If she'll let her guard down and let me."

"Sam, we could use your help over here," Ben calls.

She lets him go to help Ben, George and Brandon replace the broken windows. Cassie is busy with Tara and Stephanie, sorting through what she thinks is left of her essential oil collection, otherwise she would snag her cousin for a little conversation about Sam. Instead, she heads outside to oversee Derek and the pressure washer.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

In-spite of the uncertainty that seems to emerge whenever she stills, she's still manages to find comfort in the fact that there is more still standing than not.

She's still standing.

Ben and George have done wonders to replace the broken windows, while Derek and Brandon have managed to remove the spray paint from her store front. Tara and Stephanie have been nothing but patient as she's gone through most of what's left of her merchandise. Unable to stay, Martha made sure to send Jared with coffee and snacks like clockwork.

As overwhelmed as she is with their generosity, she's grateful.

She doesn't have to do this alone.

The bell above her door dings, and she hadn't noticed when Ben had replaced it, and it warms her heart. Jared smiles, holding up another carafe of coffee. "I've got freshly baked cinnamon roles this time, complements of the Bistro!"

There's a collective hum of approval across her shop as everyone welcomes the break. It's a bustle of movement and she looks among the small group for Sam.

"Cassie, do you want a coffee?" Brandon questions.

She shakes her head. "I'm fine, thank you though. Have you seen Sam?"

Brandon nods to the door. "He's outside."

She spies him pacing, his phone to his ear. Making her way outside, the bell chimes again as she catches his conversation.

"…has he been sent for an EKG?"

His back is to her and she steps next to him, resting her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him. She can feel the shift in him, the way he softens slightly with her next to him. His free hand coasts up her arm gently.

"…No, he needs one now. His blood pressure shouldn't be that high."

There's an urgency in his voice she recognizes, one that makes him such a great doctor. His hand stills on her arm, and it's then she notices the inflammation on her forearm. He turns in her arms and although his phone is still pressed to his ear, his focus is hers as he inspects further.

She twists her arm to get a better look, and she's surprised she didn't notice it earlier.

"….alright, keep me updated." He hangs up, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "You didn't have this, this morning."

She shakes her head, checking her other arm.

"Do you have any allergies?" He questions.

"No, not that I know of." The wheels are turning in his head as he brow furrows. "…I've just spent the last hour or so going through essential oils; it's probably just from that." He's not convinced, she can tell, and she changes the subject. "Is everything alright?"

He lets go of her arm, placing his hands on his hips. "One of my patients was just brought in with chest pains."

"You should go."

He shakes his head. "He's in good hands-"

"-you're concerned about him. Go."

"I cleared my schedule to be here with you-"

"-and I appreciate that, I do." She takes his hands in hers. "I'll be fine."

"Cassie-"

"-Sam, it's alright," she reassures. "Your patient needs you."

It's a minute before he concedes, leaning in to give her a kiss. "I won't be long."

"Ok."

"Call me if you need anything?"

She nods. "I will."

He gives her another quick kiss before heading to his car.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Abigail scurries from her perch at the window, heading back over to to the counter as Cassie enters the shop again. She recognizes the facade she slips into, the warm smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Her cousin easily blends back into work, and she makes her way over to her, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, like she hadn't just been watching her entire exchange with Sam. There's a box of candles beside her, and she helps to place them on the shelves.

"I couldn't help but notice Sam tip-toeing out of Grey House this morning," She comments. Cassie stills a minute, before busying herself again arranging candles. Abigail waits, knowing that her silence will entice her to engage in the conversation.

"It wasn't like what you're thinking," Cassie replies softly.

"And what is it that I'm thinking exactly?" She questions.

Sweeping her bangs out of her eyes, Cassie exhales. "I didn't want to be alone last night and Sam….he stayed just to comfort me. Nothing happened."

Abigail takes a minute to rearrange a few of the candles she's already placed on the shelves. "Did you want something to happen?"

Cassie shakes her head, rubbing her forehead. "Are we really talking about this?"

"Yes, we're really talking about this." Taking her hand, she pulls her towards the back of the shop out of earshot. "That man is head over heals for you, Cassie, and I'm not saying you have to do anything you don't want to….but it's alright to open up, let your guard down, you know?"

"I'm trying."

"Are you? Because I sort of watched you push Sam away just now."

"I didn't push him away," she defends. "He had a patient-"

"-he cleared his schedule to be here, Cassie. He made sure all his patients were taken care of."

"Were you eaves dropping too?"

"I didn't need to; he told me this last night."

Confusion crosses Cassie's face.

"Who do you think brought us all here today?" She questions. "Who do you think is paying Ben's wages for the day? Who's paying for the windows to be replaced? Who rented the pressure washer? Who made sure Stephanie made cinnamon rolls today because he knows they're your favourite?"

"_Sam,_" she sighs.

"Yeah, Sam." She sinks into the couch, and Abigail sits beside her. "Look, I know that you've had to be the strong one ever since you were a little girl. And you've been _so_ strong_, _Cassie." Reaching for her hands, she takes them into her own, levelling her gaze to hers. "You're allowed to _need_ him, to _want _him….depend on him, love him, whatever it is you need."

Cassie squeezes her hands, nodding. "I _love_ him."

"Then…love the heck out him!" She manages to get a laugh out of her and Abigail smiles at this. "Not everyone get's a once in a lifetime Cassie; I think you may have just gotten two."

Her gaze holds her own, and although she might not see it right now, Abigail is certain she will. She saw it between them when she first arrived in Middleton and has only watched it grow since.

"….he's pretty special," Cassie admits.

"_You're_ pretty special," Abigail corrects. "And deserve nothing less."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Are you sure you don't want us to stay?" Stephanie questions.

She shakes her head. "I'm sure. Sam said he's on his way. You've all really, done so much today."

Stephanie envelops her into a hug to which she returns gratefully. "You're always there for us; we just wanted to return the favour." Stephanie gives her a quick squeeze before pulling back. "If you're sure then?"

"Positive," she reassures.

Stephanie grabs her purse, heading for the door. "See you later then."

There's a knowing look in her eyes and perhaps a little mischief, but she gives her a grateful smile nonetheless. "Thank you for all your help today, Abigail."

She stills just short of the door, holding her gaze. "That's what family is for, right?"

Cassie nods, seeing them out.

It's just her, the silence, her thoughts and the shop and she just takes a minute to exhale.

She's still standing.

The presence she had felt the day before still lingers, but the laughter and the love that has filled her shop the entire day permeates all around her, causing a reassuring warmth inside of her. There are a few boxes that have to be taken out back, things that couldn't be salvaged, and she takes the few minutes until Sam arrives to do just that.

The bell chimes just as she's setting them down, and she heads back to the store front expecting to find Sam.

"How's your patient?" She questions immediately, only to stop abruptly at the sight of Jackson Weld. "Mr. Weld."

"Please, call me Jackson," he corrects. "I couldn't help but notice what happened to your shop."

She takes a few steps towards him, feeling the change in the air around him instantly. It causes her steps to falter for a second.

His eyes flash, a slow smirk crossing his face.

"I'm actually closed right now."

"Are you?"

She heads to the counter where she's left her phone, reaching for it. "Yes and I'm going to have to ask you to leave, please."

He's coming towards her and it's instantaneous; nausea sweeps over her and she grips the counter as it nearly brings her to her knees.

"Not a problem. I'll be back later."

She takes it for how he's meant it: a warning.

tbc


	9. Chapter 9

Another update! Feedback most welcome, as it fuels my muse to keep writing!

9

"Do we have any guest checking in today?"

She's got the blender going with her daughter's favorite green smoothing, and she nods above the noise. Shutting it off, she pours the contents into a travel cup. "We do. Her name is Amy, and she's a cardiologist the hospital is trying to recruit." Sliding the cup across the counter, she wipes her hands. "Why do you ask?"

Grace takes a sip, shrugging her shoulder. "I was kind of hoping we could go through some of the old boxes in the attack to find some things for the Merriwick display."

With everything that had been going with her shop, she completely forgot about the Historic Middleton exhibit.

"You forgot," Grace deduces.

"I didn't forget." Coming around the counter, she heads to the sitting room to retrieve the box of photos she was going through. "I was actually going through some old photos."

Grace follows, sitting at the tiny table by the window, peering into the box. "Where did you find these?"

"Tucked upstairs in the closet."

Grace leafs through the box, stopping at an old, black and white photo. "Who is this?"

She looks over her shoulder. "That's your great, great-grandmother, Laurel."

"Who's this standing next to her?" Grace questions, holding up the photo for her to see.

She doesn't recognize the man standing next to her, and she takes the photo looking at it more closely. "I don't know."

"It's not her husband?"

She shakes her head looking at the back of the photo hoping to find his name written there. "This isn't him in the photo with her."

"A mystery man, then," Grace muses.

"Maybe," she smiles

.

Taking her smoothie, Grace slings her bag over her shoulder. "I guess we can do it later?"

"Of course." She returns her daughter's kiss as she heads for the door. "Have a good day. Love you."

"Love you too!" Grace calls, stepping out onto the porch.

There on the step, is her newest guest. "Hello Amy," she greats, moving to help her with her bags.

The young woman smiles back unsurely, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Hi…I'm a little early."

Cassie gestures her inside of Grey House. "You're right on time. Welcome to Middleton."

"Thank you."

"How was your flight?" She asks, gathering the key to her room.

"Bumpy," she laughs. "But I'm here."

"We're glad you are," she smiles, handing her the key. "Your room is the first door on the left, and if you leave your bags, George will take them up for you."

The young woman twists the key in-between her fingers. "Great, thank you."

She senses her nervousness. "Would you like some tea?"

Amy relaxes a little, smiling. "I would love some, actually."

. . . . . . . . . .

Pouring each of them a cup, Cassie slides onto a stool at the counter next to her newest guest. "There's nothing like a cup of tea after a long journey."

Amy nods, looking down into her cup. "I couldn't agree more."

"Your journey isn't quite over yet, is it?" She questions gently.

"No, it's not," she sighs, rubbing her forehead. "I've followed the plan; get into medical school, finish my residency, graduate top of my class. I jumped right in, two feet, establishing myself, publishing journals and becoming the youngest department head in the Cardiac Unit."

"That's very impressive."

"Is it?" Amy questions. "Here I am, drinking tea in a small town I didn't even know existed until I received an email from a small town Dr. Radford…..this isn't exactly what I signed up for."

"What _did_ you sign up for?"

Amy leans back into her chair. "I want to help people….really _help_ them."

Cassie takes a sip of her tea. "I think you and Dr. Radford have more in common than you think."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Eve is on the phone when she lets herself in, and Sam's receptionist greets her with a wide smile. "That sounds terrible, Mrs. Wilkins! I'll fit you right in. Not a problem at _all."_

Setting the takeout box on the counter, she tries not to laugh a little at the way Eve is attempting to sooth the elderly Mrs. Wilkins that the slight tickle in her throat is probably not pneumonia. The waiting room is empty for a change, which means he's probably in an exam room reviewing files.

"We'll see you tomorrow at 2:30, Mrs. Wilkins. Bye-bye now!" Eve hangs up the phone, letting out a sigh. "She can talk your ear off, that lady!"

Cassie chuckles. "She knows she has a kind ear that will listen."

"Sam is always saying I'm _too_ kind," she jokes. "I'll let him know you're here."

"Oh, you don't have to interrupt him-"

"-standing order," Eve informs, picking up the phone placing the receiver to her ear. "Dr. Radford, Cassie is here. Ok." Hanging up, she gives her a smile. "He'll be right out."

She's taken aback a little, and Sam is turning the corner the next minute.

"Hey, is everything ok?" He questions.

There's worry in his eyes and he's reaching for her, rubbing her arm. "Everything's fine. I brought you both a treat." She gestures to the box of cookies on the counter.

Eve grabs the box before Sam can get to it. "Oh no! Last time you ate them all! Me first!"

"Fine," Sam concedes.

She laughs, reaching for his hand twining her fingers with his. "Do you have a minute?"

His thumb sweeps across the back of her hand. "Always." Turning to Eve, he points towards the cookies. "Don't eat them all, and hold my calls, please?"

Eve nods, taking a bite of a cookie. "I'll hold your calls, but I make no promises on the cookies."

Sam shakes his head, heading outback, her hand still twined in his. He leads her to an empty exam room, closing the door behind them. "She's going to eat them all," he jokes.

"Well, she did just manage to navigate Mrs. Wilkins and a certain tickle in her throat."

He shakes his head. "She's called every day this week. I've prescribed everything possible yet nothing seems to help that tickle in her throat."

She moves to sit on the exam table, letting her feet hover above the ground. "You'll figure out something."

"I won't stop until I do," he assures.

She loves that about him. His tenacity. He's got on that tie that she loves, and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled to his forearms. His watch rests loosely around his wrist, and tucked underneath is a leather band she knows is from Nick's first baseball glove.

"How are things at the shop?" He questions.

She exhales, appreciating the way he intuits the uncertainty that still lingers inside of her. "Well, I spoke with the insurance company and they think I can make a claim for most of the lost merchandise."

He smiles, coming to stand in front of her. "That's good news!"

"It is," she agrees. "But it's not the reason I'm here."

His eyebrows raise. "Why are you here, then?"

Reaching for his tie, she tugs him a little closer. "When I woke up this morning, I was alone and I realized how much I really liked having you next to me."

His hands coast up and down her thighs, as he steps closer. "Yeah?"

She nods. "And I was hoping we could do that again." There's a flicker in his gaze, one she's not sure she's ever seen before.

It causes a warmth to unfurl inside of her.

"Your place or mine?" He questions, hooking his hands under her knees, tugging her to the edge of the exam table. He steps into her and his gaze holds her own as he gauges her reaction.

She can feel the change between them, the one that causes a desire inside of her only he can seem to satisfy.

Hooking her legs around him, she draws him in closer. "You pick."

His eyebrow cocks in that way it does when she's caught him off guard.

"My pick, huh?"

She nods again and his hand is at the nape of her neck pulling her into a kiss much like he did at the lake house. Though this one is different.

She's not going to hold back this time.

She's got his face in her hands and when the smile spreads across his lips, she melts just a little.

"Maybe I'll surprise you," he breathes against her mouth. His hands slide underneath her jacket and her blouse glides against her skin as he explores gently up and down her ribcage.

"I'd like to see you try," she murmurs against his lips. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest and she can feel in reverberate inside her.

"I won't stop until I do."

She smiles against his lips. "I'm hoping you don't." His cell phone buzzes from his desk and although she wants to keep him there, next to her, she pulls back. "You should get that."

He presses another kiss to her lips before he untangles himself from her embrace.

"Dr. Radford….no, I didn't forget." He glances at his watch, wincing at the fact that he actually has. "I'll be there, just, don't overwhelm her or anything." He hangs up, shoving his phone into his pocket. "I have to go. I forgot I was meeting the board and the new cardiologist."

"Amy."

He gives her a confused look as he closes his laptop, rolling down his cuffs.

"The new cardiologist. Her name is Amy."

"She's already checked into Grey House?" He questions, throwing on his jacket. "She's early."

"I got the sense that she wanted some time to gather herself."

"What's your read on her?"

She tilts her head, smiling. "I think you both will have a lot in common."

"What makes you think that?"

Sliding off the exam table, she shrugs a shoulder. "Just a feeling."

Sam shakes his head, throwing on his jacket. "I've learned not to question your 'feelings'."

She smiles, leaning into him. "See you later?"

"You can count it."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Sam glances at his watch for what seems like the millionth time, trying to appear engaged. Truth is, they've been sitting in the board room for the better part of an hour, and no one has yet to let Amy so much as utter a word.

"Can I interrupt for just a second?" He blurts. Several sets of eyes turn on him, and he clears his throat. "I think Ms. Johnson has a pretty good idea about how the hospital operates…unless you're going to share about Taco Tuesday in the cafeteria, I think we're good."

Amy smiles from her seat, looking down.

He gets a stern look from Bruce, one of his fellow board members but he ignores it. "Can I call you Amy?"

She nods. "I'd like that."

"Amy, do you want to take a walk?…I'll give you the unofficial tour."

"That would be great."

They're both out of their seats before anyone can protest, and Sam closes the boardroom door behind them. "I'm sorry about that….they mean well, but they don't always have the pulse of the hospital."

Amy falls into step beside him. "I got that vibe."

"Do you have any questions?" There's a pause on her end, and he can tell that there's something there, just under the surface. "Honest answers. Promise."

"I can work at any hospital in New York, Dr. Radford-"

"-you can call me Sam."

She nods, and they turn the corner to an empty waiting room. She takes a seat in one of the vacant leather chairs, and Sam sits beside her. "….I'm not so sure Middleton is the right fit for me."

He leans back into his chair, hands in his pockets. "I thought the same thing," he smiles. "When I got the email from the Mayor, I had no idea the town even existed."

"I had to google it."

He laughs. "Not much popped up, I'm sure."

"A lot came up on you," she offers. "Top trauma surgeon in New York, published, the go-to doctor when it comes to running an effective ER."

"Did it say anything about my failed marriage and my non-existent relationship with my son?"

She winces slightly. "It didn't. Is that the reason why you left?"

Sam nods. "Part of it, yeah….I just got tired of not really _helping_ my patients."

"Me too," she replies softly.

Sam looks over at her. "This profession can be grueling. It can gut you in seconds and cripple you without you even realizing it."

Amy scoffs, nodding. "Tell me about it."

"…it also has the ability to make you feel infinite gratitude and hope."

A small smile tugs at her lips.

"Something tells me you're looking for that part."

"I really just want to _help_ people," she answers truthfully.

Sam nods. "Sounds like we're on the same page."

Amy smiles, nodding too.

. . . . . . . . . .

Sam lets himself into Grey house, proceeding to the kitchen, finding Abigail perched at the breakfast bar a mug between her hands.

"You're just letting yourself in now, huh?" She questions, raising the mug to her lips.

He recognizes the mirth in her eyes and he shakes his head at her. "You like teasing me, don't you?"

Abigail smiles, tilting her head that way she does. "I get immense pleasure from it. Cassie's upstairs getting ready."

"Duly noted." As he makes his way out of the kitchen, he can practically feel the amusement on her face. When he had first met Abigail, he had mistaken her for Cassie and despite being cousins, they couldn't be any more different.

Climbing the stairs to her room, he's about to knock when the door opens in front of him.

"Perfect timing," she smiles. "Will you zip me up?"

He's yet to get used to how she does this, and yet, he hopes she always remains a mystery to him. As she turns her back to him, he's met with the exposed expanse of her back and he's lost in the valley between the nape of her neck, and the dip in the small of her back. The zipper is incredibly tiny and for all the precision and accuracy he performs regularly in surgery, it takes him a minute to wrap his fingers around it. He's partly distracted by her perfume, something that he's come to recognize as distinctly hers: a delicate mix of flowers and air and warmth and light.

She's patient as he finally gathers a firmer hold on the tiny zipper, and he tugs it upward, letting his knuckles trail across her skin gently.

Her back arches at his touch.

The sound of the slider catching the chain is audible in their silence, and he's certain she's holding her breath just like he is. When he reaches the top, he sweeps her hair out of the way so as not to get caught. "There you go."

"Thank you."

It's a second, a quick hesitation, but he feels it. The change, the static that hovers in the space between them.

"How did your meeting with Amy go?" she questions with a quick glance over her shoulder, before heading into the ensuite bathroom.

He exhales, rubbing his jaw. "Great, I think….she really just wants to help people, which is refreshing. I gave her a tour of the hospital and she seemed genuinely interested in our patient care."

"Did you take her to your practice?"

He crosses the room to her bathroom, leaning in the doorframe. She's applying mascara and he watches her a minute in the mirror, taking in her natural beauty. "I did."

She stills, catching his eye in the mirror. "And?"

He shrugs a shoulder, shoving his hands in his pockets. "She loved it, meeting the patients the conversations…I think she loved Eve the most."

Cassie laughs lightly. "What's not there to love about Eve?"

He chuckles too, and she returns to finishing up her makeup. "Thank you, for coming to dinner with us."

"No thanks required," she reassures, leaning slightly to hook the dangly earrings into her ears.

With a final glance in the mirror, she turns to face him and it's then he gets a full view of her. He makes no attempt to hide his perusal of her as he takes in every curve hugged into the blue dress she's wearing.

"You look beautiful, Cassie."

A slight blush fills her cheeks. "You don't look so bad yourself: you're wearing my favorite tie."

He knows as much and doesn't miss an opportunity to wear it for her. "This old thing?" He feigns. She steps into him and he wraps his arms around her as she settles into his chest. He's still getting used to the feeling of her next to him like this. The way her hips align with his, the weight of her body, full and warm and soft all at the same time.

Leaning in, she hovers above his lips. "It makes your eyes pop," she explains softly, before pressing her lips to his in a kiss.

He's still getting used to this too. She leans into him now, so naturally and almost instinctually and he doesn't take it for granted how comfortable they've become with each other.

Her hair is down and sifts his fingers through it as he cups the back of her head, his other hand slides around her waist. The material of her dress is smooth and hugs the curve of her waist like a second skin.

"Sam," she murmurs against his lips. "We're going to be late."

He's not overly concerned, and when he trails his lips along her jaw, her hand slip into his hair encouragingly. She tilts her head as he makes his way down her neck and there's a particular spot he's wanted to taste for months now.

She shudders in his arms, a soft moan passing through her lips.

"_Sam."_

He knows he should stop; Amy is probably waiting downstairs and he wouldn't put it past Abigail to let herself in right now to tell them to hurry up.

He needs time. With her. Just the two of them. Alone.

Finding her lips again, he kisses her gently before pulling away. Her eyes open slowly and a soft smile tugs at her lips.

tbc


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you SO much for all of the feedback! It definitely kept me motivated to update!

10

She isn't the least bit surprised that Sam manages to bring a spark out in Amy over dinner. Her passion for medicine is equal to his own as they converse animatedly over recent developments in cardiac care. It's not a topic she's particularly knowledgeable in, but she enjoys listening to Sam and the medical language he speaks so fluently.

He's competent and sure, and she's a bit embarrassed to admit that she's a little turned on.

His arm has remained slung over the back of her chair the entire evening, his thumb sweeping back and forth against the nape of her neck.

He hasn't lost sight of her.

"I think I may have misjudged you, Sam," Amy admits. "You're not some small-town doctor."

"You know what?" Sam questions. "I think I am….I enjoy working at Hillcrest; I love the fast pace of the ER and working with everyone there."

"But?" Amy prompts.

Sighing, he rubs his jaw. "But I _love _my practice. I love the relationships I've built and I love being a part of the community. A part of Middleton."

She places a hand on his knee, and he looks over at her for a brief moment.

"You found what you love," Amy comments.

He takes her hand into his, interlacing their fingers. "In more ways than one."

She smiles, looking down. She can feel his eyes on her and she squeezes his hand.

Leaning back into her chair, Amy nods.

The band has started to play, and she watches as couples begin to make their way onto the dance floor.

Sam's gaze turns to the dance floor. "Amy, do you mind If we go dance?"

Amy smiles, shaking her head. "Not at all."

He looks over at her, a smile in his eyes and she takes his hand as they head out onto the dance floor. She settles into his chest as his hand slips around her waist to the small of her back. He's a confident dancer as he leads them into a gentle sway, her hand tucked in his. They dance in silence for several minutes, his gaze intent.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She questions softly.

His jaw jumps, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm not sure you want to know what I'm thinking right now."

There's a flicker in his eyes, and she dares to press him further. "Try me."

It's a minute before he answers as if he's warring with his answer. "I'm thinking about… how much I want to peel you out of this dress."

The heat rises in her face and she concentrates on no losing her step. His hand on the small of her back is suddenly a burning heat that she imagines in several different places.

"Penny for _your_ thoughts?" He questions back softly.

She slides her arm under his jacket, around his back. "I'm thinking of where I want your hands right now." There's a flicker in his eyes and she gets a great deal of satisfaction that she has this effect on him.

"And where is that?"

His voice is huskier, and it causes a tremble to pass through her. Smiling, she lets her hand slide up and down his back. "I don't think you have enough pennies."

. . . . . . . . . .

"Thank you so much for dinner; I had a really great time."

Grey House is quiet for this time of night, and she wonders what time it is. They had enjoyed themselves so much at the brewery, they must have lost track of time.

She smiles, nodding. "It was our pleasure." Sam is behind her, helping her with her coat and his hands cause a slight shiver to pass through her.

"Hopefully you had the opportunity to see what Middleton is really like," Sam adds.

Amy nods. "I think I did….I certainly have a lot to think about."

"No pressure," Sam reassures. "You do what you feel is best for you."

Heading for the stairs, Amy nods again. "I will. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," they both echo.

Sam hangs her coat in the closet as she makes her way towards the kitchen. Grabbing her teapot, she fills it with water, setting it on the stove.

"I think tonight went well," he comments, joining her in the kitchen.

Turning, she leans against the counter. "I think so too." She's aware that he's stopped short of the island, his coat still on. "Do you want some tea?"

He shakes his head. "I think I'm going to go…"

A little surprised, she nods. "Ok."

He doesn't move from the island.

"Sam?"

He sighs, rubbing his jaw. "…when we were dancing….I just need to know. Are we on the same page?"

Her feet are crossing the floor towards him and she notices the way his breath hitches the closer she gets. Sliding her hands up his chest, she presses her lips to his. "We're on the same page," she breathes against his mouth.

His arm bands around her waist bringing her flush against him and everything about him in that moment is solid and warm and _hard_.

There are a million different things she wants to do in this moment.

Slide his jacket from his shoulders just so she can feel his arms fully wrapped around her.

Kick her heels off to submit to his masculinity in its encompassing presence.

Let her tongue dance with his.

Press her body so tightly to his that there will be no mistaking how she feels next to him.

Touch him if only to see the pleasure flicker in his eyes.

She pulls back, letting her forehead connect with his. He's breathing a little heavily and her heart is pounding within her chest.

"I want you," he admits huskily.

"I want you too, Sam."

"But?"

She presses another gentle kiss to his lips before pulling back to meet his gaze. "The timing…."

He exhales, loosening his hold on her. "The timing," he echos in agreement.

"I'm sorry."

He's shaking his head, his hands framing her face, his thumb sweeping over her bottom lip briefly. "Don't apologize….Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet."

She smiles. "Aristotle."

He presses a kiss to her lips to which she returns.

"We'll find the right time," he reassures, stepping out of her embrace to zip up his coat.

"When we do…it will be magical," she says softly.

"Magical, huh?"

She nods, smiling.

A slow smile crosses his face, as he ponders her words. "Promise?"

Laughing lightly, she leans in to kiss him softly. "Promise."

. . . . . . . . . .

She had only just fallen asleep after blocking out the sound of Sam's late-night basketball game, when she's woken by the smell of something sweet.

Her mother's baking.

Climbing out of bed, Grace makes her way down to the kitchen. Her mother is perched at the island, a cup held between her hands. I fresh tray of cookies sit in front of her, cooling.

"A little late for cookies, don't you think?" She comments.

Her mom gives her an apologetic smile. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Grace slides onto a stool beside her, reaching for a cookie. It's still warm, and she bites into it. "Sam's late-night basketball game beat you to it."

Her mother sighs, taking a sip of her tea. She knows her mother only bakes when something is bothering her, and if she were to guess, Sam doesn't play basketball this late for the exercise. "Is everything alright between the two of you?"

Cassie blushes, rising from the island. "Everything's fine." Heading for the cupboards, she searches for their cookie jar and a spatula.

"Really?" She questions. "…you only bake like this when something's up."

"I guess I'm a little restless," she admits, sliding the cookies off of the tray and into the jar.

"What about?"

"About a lot of things…"

Her mother's voice trails off as her brows furrow, her gaze turning towards the sitting room.

"Mom?"

"Grace-"

Unexpectedly, a loud crash comes from the sitting room setting the alarm off. Her Mom is out of her seat pulling her into her embrace. From upstairs, guests are spilling out of their rooms.

"What's going on?" George questions, bounding down the stairs.

"I...I don't know. The sitting room," her Mom stammers.

George heads to the next room.

"Grandpa, don't!" Grace calls after him.

"Is the house on fire or something?" Abigail questions, joining them in the kitchen.

The guests have emerged from their rooms, standing on the staircase unsurely.

"Cassie?!" Abigail questions.

Her mother is still beside her, and she jolts, refocusing. "Could you stay with Grace while I check on the guests?"

She doesn't get the chance to protest as her mother heads upstairs.

"You better call the police," George calls.

Making their way to the sitting room, they see the broken window and the brick lying on the floor.

. . .

"Dad!"

He stirs, rolling over to find Nick standing over him. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"There are police and ambulances over at Grey House!"

If it were possible, his heart would have dropped to the pit of his stomach. He's already scrambling out of bed, grabbing the first bit of clothing his hands can find. Nick is already dressed and heading downstairs and he's right on his heels.

His mind registers that he should put on his coat but he's already out the front door practically sprinting over to Grey House. There are two police cruisers and an ambulance parked out front, lights going, but otherwise silent.

He lets himself in and there are guests congregating in the lobby, police tape blocking off the sitting room. A quick scan is all it takes until he finds her, his eyes connecting with hers. He relaxes a fraction making his way to where she's standing with Derek and Brandon in the kitchen. "Are you alright?" he questions immediately. She gives him her best reassuring smile, but her eyes belie her; she's shaken. As soon as he's close enough she's sliding into him and he holds her tightly against his chest. "Where's Grace?"

"She's fine," she answers softly. "She and Abigail are upstairs with some of the guests."

He pulls her back, framing his hands around her face. His heart is still beating widely in his chest and he has to repeatedly tell himself to breathe, to relax. "Are you alright?" He questions again.

Tears well in her eyes for a brief minute before she pulls herself together, nodding.

"What happened?" Nick questions.

Derek gestures to the brick-laying on the counter in front of them. "Someone threw this through the sitting room window."

Her arm slides around his waist as she leans into him, and he rubs her back in comfort. "Was anyone hurt? Why is the ambulance outside?"

"It set off the alarm here at Grey House; they're here out of protocol," Brandon answer. "My Dad had the system set up."

There are a lot of things he has to thank Jake Russell for, this included. "Do you have any idea who did this?"

Both Derek and Brandon exchange looks.

"If you know something, Cassie deserves to know," Nick prompts.

Derek sighs. "I don't think this is an isolated incident."

"The same person who vandalized my shop," Cassie provides softly.

He presses a kiss to her temple, rubbing her back.

"For the time being, I think you should relocate your guests to the hotel in Blairsville," Brandon reasons.

"You, Grace, George and Abigail can stay with us-"

"-Sam," she begins to protest.

"Cassie, please. You're not staying here. Not tonight. Not after this."

That familiar spark is gone from her eyes and she nods, conceding.

. . . . . . . . . .

"George is set up on the couch, Abigail is in the guest room, and Grace is passed out on the air mattress in Nick's room."

She's perched on the window seat in his room that overlooks Grey House. The police are still parked outside, and they've put up more police tape as the few reporters in the small town have congregated outside.

Sitting across from her, he offers her the cup of tea he's made. She's been on auto-pilot the past few hours getting her guests situated at the hotel in Blairsville, filling out police reports and reassuring Grace. Now that they're here, in the silence of his room, he can see more than just fatigue in her eyes.

"I thought you might like this."

She takes the mug between her hands gingerly and he can tell that she's still shaken.

_He's _still shaken.

Things like this don't happen in Middleton. His instincts are telling him to protect her at all costs, but what does he know about that? He's not Jake.

He's a surgeon.

"I'm scared, Sam," she whispers.

He exhales, covering her hands with his own around her mug of tea. "I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, Cassie."

Her gaze is out the window, and she slides her hands from his setting the mug on the window sill. She wraps arms around herself." ….for my guests, for my family...my daughter was there tonight and I..." her voice catches as the tears well in her eyes. "...I can't stop thinking about what could have happened tonight...what if it wasn't just a brick? What if-"

"-don't do this to yourself," he reaches out, only she pulls away, rising from the window seat. "Don't think of the what if's."

She's pacing the room, and as much as he wants to go to her, he realizes that she's trying to process everything. She covers her face as she lets her guard down, letting the emotions of the night finally pour out of her.

Rising from his seat, he goes to her then, pulling her gently into his arms. She goes without hesitation, falling into him completely.

He wants to carry this for her, be what she needs right now and he struggles to find the right words. Her pain is palpable and he can feel it now, as it seeps out of her in every tear that falls from her eyes.

"Cassie, I want you to listen to me," he begins softly.

She nods into his shoulder.

"You're guests are safe. George and Abigail are safe. Grace is _safe_."

"She is," she agrees.

"_You_ are safe."

Pulling back, she meets his gaze. Her eyes are, like always, so expressive, and he can see her worry there on the surface.

"Derek and Brandon…they're going to do everything they can to find out who did this."

She nods, wiping her eyes.

He holds her gaze for a moment, letting the truth in his words settle. She exhales, and he can feel the shift in her, feel the weight of her worry dissipating just a fraction.

"Everyone is here, _safe_, and sound asleep."

"Everyone but me," she points out.

There's a little light in her eyes, and he smiles gently. "Well that, we can fix. C'mon." Taking her hands, he pulls her from the window seat over towards his bed. It's in slight disarray from when he had scrambled out of it earlier, but she doesn't seem to mind as she crawls between the sheets. He settles in beside her, turning to face her as she tucks the pillow beneath her head.

"I love you," she whispers.

He brushes the hair from her eyes, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I love you too."

Scooting across the bed, she rests her head on his chest, wrapping her arm around his torso.

. . . . . . . . . .

Nick is snoring soundly from his bed as she stares at the ceiling. The night's given way to morning, and what sleep she did manage to get was fitful at best.

Her mother is hurting. She can feel it in every fiber of her being.

Rolling over, she climbs her way off of the air mattress making her way downstairs. She closes the door to Nick's room, careful not to wake him. Though she doubts she would the way he's snoring.

She can smell the coffee as she descends the stairs heading towards the kitchen. Sam is there, still in his pajamas, scrolling through his iPad at the small island.

"Morning," she greets.

Glancing her way, he greets her with a smile. "Morning. How'd you sleep?"

Sliding onto one of the stools beside him, she helps herself to some of the coffee that he's placed out. "Nick snores."

Sam chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. "He gets that from his mother."

She smiles, looking at the assortment of muffins, bagels and fruit that have taken over his kitchen table. "That's a far cry from cereal."

"Stephanie brought it by; you just missed her actually."

"That was sweet of her."

Sam nods. "It was….she heard about what happened at Grey House last night."

She can't seem to think of anything but.

The way her mother had frozen. The fear that was in her eyes.

"Want to talk about it?"

Holding the mug between her hands, the warmth helps to settle some of the emotions inside of her. "I don't really know what to think," she answers truthfully. "…I just feel…" she can't seem to find the right words.

"A lot of things," he provides for her.

She nods, looking down into her mug. Something in the air shifts and she knows that her mother is awake. The weight of her unease is considerably lighter compared to last night, but it still lingers. She can feel her before she sees her, and she's sliding off of the stool and into her arms the minute she walks into the kitchen.

. . . . . . .

Grace is there in her arms and she holds her tightly. From across the room, Sam gives her a look that says everything he won't. It's funny how they've gotten to this place where they can read each other almost intuitively.

"The best way to start my day," she muses softly, sifting her fingers through her daughter's hair. "Do you want to talk about what you're feeling?"

Pulling back, Grace catches the few tears that have welled in her eyes.

"Honey," she soothes. "Talk to us."

Grace looks over at Sam who looks at her. She can tell that she's caught both of them off guard. "You know, when scary things happen, it's so much better to have support from people who care about you."

"When I saw the police and the ambulance last night, my only thought was of you and your mother….getting to you both to make sure that you were alright," Sam admits.

Her eyes connect with his and she can feel the fear that he hid from her last night surface.

"I know it's been just you and your mom for a long time….it's been just me and Nick for a long time too, and I don't want to push you to feel like you have to be a certain way with me….I just want you to know that I'm here, for whatever you need me for."

Grace wipes a few tears from her eyes, nodding. "Thanks, Sam."

Setting his mug on the island, he gestures for a hug. "Come here."

Laughing a little, Grace moves into his embrace, and he hugs her tightly. "I was scared to death last night. I can't imagine how you're feeling right now."

Pulling back, Grace looks between them. "I'm really scared," she admits softly. "…after what happened at Bell Book and now this…who would do such a thing?"

The doorbell rings and Sam excuses himself to answer it. He returns with Derek and Brandon behind him.

All it takes is one look at her son, and Cassie knows. "You found something."

Derek opens the folder in his hand, spreading the photos out onto the counter. "The bank across the street picked up these images the night your shop was vandalized."

"Any chance you recognize him?" Brandon questions.

She slides a picture across the counter for a better look. It's a bit grainy and only a side profile, but she's certain of who it is.

Grace looks over her shoulder, her face pailing. "….Him."

"You know him?" Derek questions.

"Of him," Grace corrects. "He was following me one day downtown."

Cassie's brow furrows. "You never told me that?"

Grace shrugs. "I just thought I might have been overreacting."

Sam takes one of the photos for a closer look. "The guy from Abigail's shop," he comments.

"What happened at Abigail's?" Derek presses.

"He was giving Abigail a hard time about some flowers she didn't have….he was pretty confrontational."

"His name is Jackson Weld," Cassie provides. "He's been in my shop."

"You've had contact with him?" Brandon questions further.

She nods. "He's in town on unfinished business."

"What does that even mean?" Grace asks, worry settling into her voice.

Derek gathers the photos back into his folder. "It means we have a place to start."

"He's escalating, Derek," Sam comments. "What will be next?"

"We catch him," Derek reassures. "Until we do, I don't want you worrying-"

"-that's kind of hard to do, don't you think?" Grace blurts. "Are we in danger?!"

Derek shifts on his feet, looking down, a telling sign of his uncertainty.

Brandon looks over at his chief, before turning to his sister. "I know you're scared; stuff like this doesn't happen in Middleton. Let us do our jobs, ok? We're going to find him."

Tbc


	11. Chapter 11

An update! Thank you all for the lovely replies/feedback! They keep me motivated to write!

11

It's the remnants of his shower that she's met with when she steps into his bedroom. The steam mixed with the earthy smell of his body wash settle around her much like his presence had throughout the night.

She's in search of her phone, not sure where exactly it had ended up in the flurry of last night. The sun is filtering through the blinds across the bed, and she smoothes out the wrinkles in his bedspread. The grey material is soft under her hands and it suits the masculine feel of his room. Sam is a minimalist, she realizes, noticing how everything seems to have a place. There are only two things on his dresser: his cologne and watch.

She's not even sure he has a charger for a phone in here.

On his nightstand are a few photos of Nick from when he was younger, his parents and a blonde woman she's not sure he's ever spoken of.

The door to the bathroom opens and he exits, a towel wrapped around his waist, another wiping along his chin and jaw.

"Hey," he greets gently.

She can tell that he hadn't expected her to be there, and he stands awkwardly in the bathroom doorway. He clutches the towel around his waist a little tighter. As much as she wants to peruse every inch of him, she holds her gaze with his own. "Hey….have you seen my phone?"

"Yeah, it's on the nightstand there…there's a charger tucked in the shelf," He points towards the nightstand, heading towards his closet.

She watches his back as it disappears into his closet, taking in the angular cut of his torso. She can feel the blush creeping up on her, and she shakes her head at herself, biting her lip. She slides her hand across the shelf built into the stand, landing on her phone."…..Thank you for charging it."

Sitting on the bed, she takes a minute to scroll through her messages. Several from Martha urging her to call her. A few from Stephanie, Tara, Ben and Lori. She knows that they're all anxiously waiting for her to return their calls, only she's not sure yet what to say.

He returns from the closet in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt in his hands. "No problem."

Her gaze slides over him involuntarily and she's lost for a minute in the view of him. She's always known that despite his love for caffeine and pasta, his personal fitness is important to him. His chest is defined, his arms and shoulders sculpted. They're not washboard, but his abs are visible and given his age, he looks good.

Really good.

He pulls the t-shirt over his head, and she looks away. Sitting beside her, Sam brushes her hair off her shoulder, letting his hand rub up and down her back gently. "Everything ok?"

"…I've got messages from Martha, Stephanie, Ben and Lori and I'm not sure what to say to them."

"No one is expecting for you to have this all figured out; they'll understand," he reasons gently.

She nods, feeling the tears prick her eyes. His hand is reassuring as it slides up and down her back.

"Cass….talk to me, honey."

Something inside her stirs.

The nickname.

There's no way he would ever know that Jake would call her that. It's overwhelming as much as it causes her heart to swell for Sam. Framing her hands around his face, she presses her lips to his.

"I love you," she breathes.

He kisses her back, before pulling away. "I love you too."

His phone buzzes from his nightstand, and it's a minute before he rises from the bed to answer it.

"Dr. Radford."

She watches the expression change in his face, the way he deflates at whatever news he's just received.

"…I'm not sure what else I can do, Bruce." He rubs his forehead, nodding. "Alright." He hangs up, shaking his head.

"Everything ok?" She echos.

"No, not really….That was the hospital; Amy turned down our offer."

"Sam….." She sighs. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault-"

He cuts her off, shaking his head. "-No, it's not, and I don't want you thinking that you're at all responsible for this." Tossing his phone on the bed, he circles around, heading into the bathroom.

She gives him a minute before following him. He's filling the sink with water preparing to shave and all she can do is wrap her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder. He stills, meeting her gaze in the mirror.

"I don't blame you….it just…." He sighs, shrugging. "Happens. We'll find another candidate."

His hand coasts along her arm and he stops at a small spot of inflammation she can't seem to get rid of. He turns in her arms, inspecting it further. "You still have this?"

She looks at the red patch just below her elbow. It isn't any less inflamed than a few days ago. "With everything going on, I forgot about it."

"Do you have any allergies?"

She shakes her head. "No….it's nothing."

Sam gives her a look.

"…but I'll have a doctor look at it."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He turns back to the sink, lathering his face. "I have to go to the hospital to meet with the board….I know this isn't the best timing…."

She leans into him again, resting her cheek against his back. "It's ok. I have to meet Derek over at Grey House anyway."

He's silent, and she's content to just be next to him as he shaves.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Sign here, and here," Derek points to an x next to a dotted line on the police report laid out on the counter. "You know, we don't have to do this now, Cassie."

Sliding the papers towards her, she glances quickly at them before signing her statement recounting her interactions with Jackson Weld. "It's alright, really."

Derek flips through more pages, showing her where to sign. "There's a lot of paperwork….sign here and here."

Auto pilot kicks in. Derek is explaining each page to her but her focus is on keeping the contents of her stomach from making a violent exit.

Something is not right at Grey House.

"…we've set up a detail outside, and at the Bell Book. It would be best if you switch up your schedule until we can locate Wells."

Brought out of her revere, she looks over at Derek. "You haven't found him?"

He shakes his head. "The room he was renting in Blairsville was cleared out sometime last night. The hotel staff said he never checked out."

Sitting, she leans on the island her face in her hands.

"Cassie…you shouldn't be doing this alone. Can I call Sam?"

"I'm here," Abigail chimes in, breezing into the kitchen. She grabs the kettle from the counter filling it with water before setting it on the stove. "Derek, can all this wait?" She gestures to the papers and files.

"Of course." He quickly gathers them up, tucking them under his arm. "You can come down to the station whenever, Cassie; there's no rush."

"Thank you, Derek," she manages.

"I'll keep you posted." He gives her a reassuring nod, before letting himself out.

Abigail busies herself with making tea, and she slides a mug in front of her as she takes the stool beside her. "Do you want to vomit as much as I do right now?"

"You too?" She takes the tea hoping it will help settle her stomach.

"The minute I stepped through the door. Something's not right, Cassie…..he's done something."

It's something she hasn't wanted to give any more thought to then she already has.

The nausea, dizziness. The overwhelming angry presence she's felt in the wake of his presence.

"He's cursed Grey House," Abigail states. "And until he's found, we can't stay here."

"I know," she agrees softly.

"Look, Brandon and Tara said George can stay with them, and I've found a room at a cute little B&B in Blairsville. There are rooms available if you and Grace want to come with….unless you're going to stay with Sam."

"I can't impose on him like that-"

"-I'd hardly call imposing," Abigail points out. "It's not like he's going to let you out of his sight anyway."

"What do you mean?"

Abigail sighs, finishing her tea. "For someone who is usually so intuitive, you've been off your game the last little while. You clearly didn't notice the look on his face last night."

She doesn't remember much from last night; it's all a blur. "What did it look like?"

"Worried, frantic, distressed, panicked….you take your pick." Sliding off the stool, she moves to put her empty mug into the dishwasher. "Promise me you'll stay safe. This guy gives me bad vibes."

It's the second promise asked of her today. Promises are something she doesn't do; there's too much out of her control. "I promise."

Abigail envelops her into a hug and she welcomes the embrace.

"Don't stay here too long."

. . . . . . . . . .

Main Street is busy as usual, and he maneuvers through the small town traffic. It's nothing compared to traffic in New York, and Sam appreciates the shorter commute to his practice. He slows to a stop at a red light, right outside the Bell, Book and Candle. Unlike the rest of Middleton, it's in darkness.

So is Cassie.

He's seen her come apart at the seams more in the past few weeks than he has since he's moved to Middleton. Her usually optimistic spirit has been tested and her spark dimmed.

She's not herself.

The dizziness, nausea. Migraines and rashes.

The light turns green and he rolls back into traffic, approaching his practice. There's an empty space right out front, and he parks. Grabbing his bag from the back, he climbs out heading inside. The waiting room is empty, and Eve comes from out back, files in hand.

"Dr. Radford! I didn't expect to see you in today."

"I didn't expect to be here…I just have to grab some files from my office."

"…how's Cassie?" She questions tentatively.

He stills, looking for the right words. "How you'd expect."

Eve nods. "Can you tell her that I'm thinking of her? And that if she needs anything, I mean _anything _at all, to let me know?"

"I will. I'm going to need you to clear my schedule for the next few days and see if Dr. Stanley can cover any of my patients that need immediate care."

"I'll see to it."

"Thanks." Grabbing the few patient files on the counter waiting for his review, he heads back to his office. He takes a minute to flip through the one on top, setting his bag on the desk. There's a stack of voice notes on his desk, the light on his answering machine blinking.

Bobby Burke's latest X-rays are inside, and he holds it up to the light, recognizing the fracture in his growth plate immediately.

He sighs, sliding it on to the screen, turning it on.

How had he missed this?

Rubbing his jaw, he finds his glasses in his bag putting them on.

There's a soft knock on the door.

"Yeah," he calls out.

"Is this a bad time?"

He turns, finding Cassie standing in the doorway. "No…is everything alright?"

Entering his office, she holds out her elbow. "I promised to get this checked out."

His panic subsides, and he flicks off the screen, pulling the X-ray down. "You're in luck that the doctor is in. We'll have to go into one of the exam rooms."

She follows him into the next room, sliding up onto the exam table.

"You looked a little swamped in there," she comments.

The board is in an uproar about Amy. They've threatened to remove him as chief of staff.

The nurses are overworked and fatigued.

The wait times in emergency are too long.

And four year old Bobby Burke is going to need major surgery to fix the growth plate in his wrist.

"Nothing I can't handle," he lies. Sliding on a pair of gloves, he examines the inflammation just below her elbow. It's a textbook allergic reaction if he's ever seen one. "You're sure you don't have any allergies?"

She shakes her head. "Do you think I do?"

"I do. It would be worth drawing some blood for the lab to test."

She nods.

He needs her forearm, finding the right vein. "It may be the reason behind the dizziness, nausea and migraines you've been having."

"Maybe."

He tourniquets her arm, swabbing her skin with antiseptic. "Make a fist….you don't think so?" She's silent as he assembles the needle. "Talk to me, Cass."

She shakes her head, exhaling. "I don't like needles."

He's surprised at this. "Don't look."

She closes her eyes.

"Take a deep breath." As she inhales, he inserts the needle. The flash of red is immediate and he's able to fill enough catheters for the lab to test.

"Are you almost done?"

He chuckles, untying the tourniquet, pressing on the vein. "All done."

She looks down at her arm just as he's applying a bandaid to secure the cotton ball. "Really?"

He tosses the waist into the collection container, his gloves into the trash by his desk. "That quick." Labeling her samples, he places them into a transport bag. "The lab's backed up right now, but I'll see if I can get a rush put on these."

"Thank you, Sam."

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "How was your meeting with Derek?"

"He had a lot of paperwork for me to sign….there's going to be a police detail outside of Grey House and the Bell book. He also wants me to…switch up my schedule….so it's not so predictable."

He catches the hitch in her voice and he moves towards her, pulling her into his arms. She clings to him, her hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

"I'm _scared_, Sam," she exhales into his shoulder. "I can't stop thinking about Weld….he followed Grace, made her feel _unsafe_, _scared_….what were his intentions? What would he have done? And Abigail?….my _shop, Greyhouse…_he's out there and….I'm scared of what he'll do next."

He holds her tightly against him, cradling her head in his shoulder. "So am I," he admits. "The only thing that gave me any peace last night was knowing that you were there, right next to me." He's seen first hand what Jackson Wield is capable of and it's clear that he has something against the Merriwick women, specifically, Cassie. "….The board wants me to go to the city tonight."

She pulls back, meeting his gaze.

"…They've managed to convince Amy to meet with me one last time before her flight out. Come with me. We'll take the kids and just….get away from this for a night."

"….Running from this isn't going to fix it, Sam-"

"-We're not running," he disagrees. "We're just…regrouping. Getting our feet back on solid ground, _together_."

"Ok."

"Ok?" He repeats.

She nods, sliding back into his embrace.

Tbc


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you all for the replies/feedback on the last update! How awesome was Curse from a rose?...here's an update! It hasn't been edited much, just an fyi. The link below is a song that gave me a great deal of inspiration for the second half of the chpt. Let me know what you think!

watch?v=A5pX1YpFPgg

12

_Do you see what's going on in the front seat?!_

Swiping the message up, Nick ignores the text from Grace, who is sitting right beside him in the back of his Dad's car. He's well aware that his Dad has reached across the console to hold Cassie's hand.

_NICK?!_

Rolling his eyes, he texts back.

**_So?_**

His one word answer is enough to drive Grace crazy and her fingers are flying over her phone in response. He goes back to playing his game. When his Dad had told him about the last minute trip to the city, it had never crossed his mind that they'd be going _without_ Cassie and Grace. He didn't feel like he needed to adjust to this new dynamic in their lives, because Cassie and Grace were always _there_.

His game is interrupted with Grace's text.

_Nevermind._

Exhaling, he looks over at her but her attention is out the window. He opens a new message.

**_Look…I know this may be weird for you bc of your Dad. It's weird for me too….I don't think I've ever seen my Dad hold my moms hand like that….it's weird seeing him all…lovey dovey._**

He waits as her phone vibrates and she reads his message. She types back.

_…__I was actually going to say how adorable they look._

He shakes his head, sending her back the barf emoji, causing her to laugh beside him.

. . . . . . . . . .

Grace grabs her bag from the trunk of Sam's SUV, wheeling it into the lobby with Nick. She can't help but smile at the way Sam takes her moms bag, carrying it for her. She follows them to the desk, helping herself to the bowl of mints on the counter.

"Good evening," the desk clerk greets. "Are you checking in tonight?"

Sam nods. "Yeah…we've got two rooms reserved under the name Radford."

The clerk searches the name up on the computer. "Here you are; one with two doubles and one with a queen."

Sam shakes his head. "I think there's been a mistake; I booked two double rooms."

The clerk searches again, shaking her head. "I'm sorry Mr. Radford; the reservation was upgraded to a queen to accommodate another quest."

"I'm not sleeping on a cot," Nick chimes in.

"Grace and I can take the queen," Cassie adds.

The desk clerk slides the keys across the counter to them, and Graces takes them, handing Sam the one to the queen. "You and Mom take the queen, and Nick and I will take the two doubles. Problem solved."

Sam's face is a little surprised, and her mother opens her mouth to say something, only nothing comes out.

"Sounds good with me," Nick shrugs. "We can order room service, right?"

Grace heads towards the elevator, Nick on her heals.

. . . . . . . . . .

Sam sets their bags on the luggage stool and she can feel the tension building between them.

"…The reservation is in an hour at this Italian place just down the street."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she kicks off her shoes. "I know I said I'd go with you…but I think it would be better if it was just the two of you."

Sam shakes his head, his hands on his hips. "I disagree; you can sell Middleton better than I can."

"Amy didn't agree to the interview because of me," she points out. "The possibility of working with you drew her to Middleton….if anything, I'll only make things worse-"

"-I don't blame you-"

"-I know you don't. That doesn't mean that I don't feel in some way responsible for her turning down the offer, Sam."

Crossing the room, he sits beside her and the bed dips a little under his weight. "Maybe I want you there to keep me grounded."

She sifts her fingers through his hair, settling at the nape of his neck. "Trust me on this?"

He exhales, looking down. "Alright."

It's the first time she's ever seen him doubt himself and there's a vulnerability in the way he avoids her gaze that resonates with her. "Forget all the reasons why it won't work, and believe the one reason why it will."

He smiles, looking over at her. "Buddah?"

"Cassie Nightengale," she corrects, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

. . . . . . . . . .

Waiting at the bar, Sam checks his watch for what seems like the millionth time. Amy isn't late but his gut is telling him that something's not right. They're two hours away from Middleton and yet it feels like there's still a cloud hanging over him, something lurking just behind him.

They had all assured him that they were staying in the hotel to order room service.

They're safe.

He exhales, rubbing his face.

Maybe it's the fact that his position as chief of staff is riding on this meeting.

"Hi Sam."

He turns, greeting Amy with what he's sure is a strained smile. "Hey….it's good to see you again."

She nods. "You too. Do you want to grab a table?"

"Yeah, sure." He follows her into the restaurant taking the seat opposite her. "Thanks for meeting me on such short notice; I know you're flying out in the morning."

"I felt I owed you as much…I did leave Middleton rather quickly. How's Cassie?"

He isn't surprised at her question and regrets not having Cassie here with him. "She's a bit shaken. I'm not sure if you know this, but her shop had been vandalized a few weeks ago too."

Shock crosses Amy's face. "That's terrible!" She opens her mouth to say something, but thinks better of it.

"…One thing I've come to learn about Cassie is that she's incredibly resilient."

"She's fortunate to have someone like you in her life."

He shrugs, shaking his head. "I think I'm the lucky one, really. Before moving to Middleton, before meeting Cassie…I don't think I had the capacity to care…to _love_, the way I do now. Moving to Middleton…changed everything for me."

A waiter approaches their table, asking if they'd like menus.

"No thank you. We won't be here long," Amy answers.

His stomach knots. As the waiter heads to another table, he accepts defeat. "…Where ever it is that you end up, Amy, you're going to make an incredible difference, I'm sure of it."

She's taken aback a bit, but she smiles, nodding. "Thank you; that means a lot, coming from you."

They both rise from the table, and she extends her hand, to which he accepts without hesitation. "Safe travels."

"You too."

. . . . . . . . . .

Sam can hear the laughter outside of their room and it adds a little levity to his defeated mood. Knocking on the door, Nick answers.

"Hey," he greets, stepping out of the door to let him in. Grace lounging in the chair pyjama-clad and sharing what looks like a pepperoni pizza between them.

"This movie makes no sense," Grace comments.

"That's the beauty of it," Nick states. "It's funny _because_ it makes no sense."

Grace frowns. "That makes no sense."

Nick shakes his head. "Want some pizza?"

"No thanks…I just wanted to check- in."

"How'd your meeting go?" Grace questions.

He shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Not the way I was hoping."

"That sucks, Dad."

"Yeah, it kind of does," he agrees. "Don't stay up too late, alright? And no more room service….I'm going to call it a night."

They both wish him goodnight, and he lets himself out heading across the hall to his own room. The lights are dimmed, and he loosens his tie.

Cassie emerges from the bathroom wearing one of his t-shirts. It barely skims her thighs and he can't help but follow the length of her bare legs.

"Hey," she greets. "How did it go?"

He takes his time sliding his gaze up to hers, and suddenly his meeting with Amy is the furthest thing from his mind. "Not good."

"She turned down your offer again?"

He nods, tossing his tie into his open suitcase.

She's there, in front of him and her hands slide up his chest. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"Me too." Reaching for the hem of his shirt, he tugs on it gently. "I'm fairly certain this is mine," he comments.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About my shirt?"

She smiles. "About Amy."

He shakes his head, tugging her against him. "I'd rather talk about my shirt." She settles next to him, her arms sliding around his neck. Her fingers sift through his hair gently. She's silent, waiting, and he finds himself exhaling. "I don't want to talk about it." Sliding out of her arms, he side-steps her to the bed. Sitting, he takes his time untying his shoes.

She kneels at his feet, taking the laces from him. She removes his shoes, tossing them towards the door. Her hands slip under the hem of his pants, and she pulls the socks from his feet one at a time. When she's finished, she rises to her feet, moving to straddle his lap.

He welcomes her weight, letting his hands coast up her thighs.

Her fingers are at the buttons of his shirt, and he watches her face as she undoes them, one by one. She's removed her makeup and he's not sure he's ever seen her look more beautiful. Her hair falls into her face and he reaches out, tucking it behind her ear.

Her gaze lifts to his and he's got an arm around the small of her back, lifting her to the bed as he stands. He takes his time with the rest of the buttons on his shirt, undoing his cuffs before removing it.

She holds his gaze for the longest moment, before she reaches for the hem of his shirt, tugging it over her head and tossing it to him. Catching it, he's frozen a minute at the sight of her.

She scoots further up the bed and he crawls after her, tossing the t-shirt on the floor. Settling next to her, her hands coast up his arms softly, exploring the feel of him. He lets his gaze drag over the valley between her breasts, the perfect peaks waiting for his mouth.

He sweeps his hand down her chest, her abdomen and back up, watching her breath hitch as she inhales. He traces the underside of her breasts with his fingers and she wiggles beside him.

She's ticklish.

He draws slow circles around one peak, and then the other. "Is this where you wanted my hands?" He questions.

"mmmmm," she murmurs.

Dragging his fingers down her chest, he circles her belly button before gliding over the delicate lace at the apex of her thighs. "And here?" Her eyes close and he leans in, his lips close, but never touching. "Do you want my hands here?" He whispers in her ear.

"_Yes._"

She inhales sharply as his hand slides beneath the lace and through her folds. Her slick heat is a giveaway to her arousal and he watches the pleasure flower across her face. There's a faint smile tugging at her lips and they part just enough, before she's got her bottom lip between her teeth.

Her hands reach for him, and she's got his pants undone around his hips. He kicks them off and she's shimming out of her panties and it's quick and effortless and so right when they finally connect.

He holds himself within her for a minute, wanting to just _feel_.

"Sam," she calls softly.

Settling into the cradle of her body, he presses his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. Her legs wrap around him and he begins a gentle rock to which she meets.

There isn't any rush. They've got time.

Finally.

Her hands slide up and down his back, sift through his hair. Her lips dance with his as they each explore unabashedly.

This.

_This._

She sighs into his mouth, a soft burst of pleasure as she arches into him, her nails pressing into his back. She trembles next to him and he's learning her tells, learning her body as her orgasm flourishes.

A delicate moan slips through her lips and she's there.

"_Don't stop_," she pleads.

He feels it, the minute she falls over. The way her body tenses then relaxes into soft, warm heat. It's enough to send him over and she's pulling him next to her as his own body tenses in the wake of his release.

_This_.

It's a minute before either of them are coherent. Lifting his head out of her shoulder, her gaze is heavy, but there's a soft smile on her face.

He brushed the hair from her eyes before leaning down to tease his lips against hers. "Did I tell you where I want _your_ hands?"

She smiles, rolling over to straddle him.

Tbc


	13. Chapter 13

13

She's aware that he's awake next to her as his fingers trace a continuous loop from the small of her back to her shoulder. As much as she wants to drift off back to sleep, she can sense the change in him: he's distracted.

Nuzzling into his neck, she draws closer to him. "Want to talk about it?" She whispers.

His fingers still and his chest rises and falls deeply.

She waits.

"…I misdiagnosed a patient….I thought it was just a broken wrist but I missed it. I missed the fracture in his growth plate and now I have to send a 4 year old into major surgery…..the emergency room is chaos and the nurses are over worked and I can't find the solution." He exhales and it's a minute before he continues. "….and I'm probably going to lose my job as chief of staff at Hillcrest."

Pulling back, she sits up to meet his gaze. "What?"

He shrugs, rubbing his eyes. "I couldn't convince Amy to stay-"

"-they can't fire you over that-"

"-Yes they can," he interjects. "I've been doing a pretty lousy job as of late."

She sits with her back to him, the sheet tucked to her front.

It's happening again.

It always starts this way.

The people in her life, their lives start to unravel. They're little things at first, inconveniences. Those little things turn into big things. They _always_ turn into big things.

Her parents.

Jake.

Ryan managed to escape relatively unscathed but his career was put into jeopardy.

And now Sam.

She can't do this to him.

The bed dips and he's sitting next to her. His hand slides up the bare expanse of her back and what she wouldn't give to just fall back into bed with him and forget everything going on outside of these four walls.

"Don't tell me this isn't my fault, please," she says softly. "Because it is. It always is." Before he can question her, she slides out of the bed, grabbing his tshirt on the floor slipping it on.

"What does that even mean?" He questions.

She doesn't respond, heading to the bathroom closing the door behind her.

. . . . . . . . . .

"I'm starving; I hope they have more than just cereal." Nick follows Grace into the elevator, slapping the button that will take them down to the dining area.

"I thought you'd be used to cereal," Grace teases.

He shakes his head as she laughs beside him. "It's the breakfast of champs," he defends. "but even champs want eggs and bacon every now and then."

The elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open. "If you say so," Grace comments.

The dining area is relatively empty and Nick spies the waffle machine before they've even turned the corner. "Yes!" He exclaims. "A waffle maker!" He knows Grace is rolling her eyes beside him, but he doesn't care. He's been dying for waffles for weeks now. As he pours the batter into the iron, Grace helps herself to some fruit and yogurt before heading towards the coffee. "Can you get me some too?"

Grace gives him a look, but grabs an extra mug for him. "Do you think our parents will be down anytime soon?"

The wait for the iron seems forever, and he taps the counter impatiently. "I wouldn't count on it; it's the first time they've actually been alone for more than a few hours at a time."

"For how many _chairs_," She points out dryly. "And I did not need that idea in my head!"

Nick laughs, the red light flashing on the iron. Scooping his waffle on a plate, he loads it up with butter and syrup before following Grace to an empty table. "Well I meant that they didn't have to worry about guests and patients and kids and probably are enjoying the extra sleep, but since your mind went there…"

Grace tosses a strawberry at him and he laughs, dodging it. "Change the subject please before I die of embarrassment!"

He takes a large bite of his waffle, grinning at her as he catches Cassie coming off the elevator. His dad isn't with her, and he nods towards her. "No pillow talk I guess."

Grace looks over her should, and in seeing her Mom, blushes harder than he thinks he's ever seen her blush. He bursts into laughter, and Grace reaches across the table to smack him in the arm.

"Everything ok?" Cassie questions as she approaches their table.

"Just peachy," Grace answers, retreating to her yogurt.

He's still grinning and he greets Cassie good morning. "How'd you sleep?"

"Very well, thank you for asking," she answers. "Do they have anything good?"

"A waffle maker." He points over to the counter. "Not as big as the one at Grey House, but still good."

Cassie smiles. "Sounds good."

As she makes her way over to the breakfast bar, Grace kicks him under the table. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"Just because!"

He catches his father coming off the elevator and he can tell that something's off; he hesitates a minute before making his way into the dinning area. He stops to grab a coffee before joining them at their table.

"Morning," he greats.

Cassie joins them, and it's pretty obvious to him that something's different between the two of them.

"Morning," his father greets back, taking a sip of his coffee. "How'd you two sleep?"

"Nick snores. Like a freight train," Grace comments.

Nick shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "I'm not that loud."

Grace shakes her head, sipping her coffee. "Yes you are."

"Well, now that the guest room is free, you can sleep there when we get back then."

"I think we're going to go back to Grey House," Cassie announces.

The table goes silent and he looks to his Dad. There's surprise on his face and it's pretty clear he didn't know about this decision.

"We are?" Grace questions. "What about the giant whole in our front window? What about Wells?"

"I spoke with George this morning and the window has been fixed-" Cassie explains.

"-So being sitting ducks for a madman is alright?" Grace questions angrily.

"Grace," his dad cautions gently.

Cassie continues. "Derek assured me that we'll be safe there. I'm not going to let him scare me from my own home."

The table is silent, and Nick looks to his dad expecting him to say something, only he doesn't.

"I'm going to go finish packing." Gathering her plate, Cassie excuses herself, leaving the dining area.

"Dad, you're seriously not going to let them go back to Grey House, are you?" He questions immediately. He looks over at Grace who quickly wipes the tears from her eyes. "It's not safe there!"

His father exhales, rubbing his jaw.

"Dad!" He prompts. "Do something!"

Sam raises a hand, gesturing for him to calm down. "I'll see what I can do."

. . . . . . .

She hears the door click closed first, before she sees him in her periphery. She doesn't acknowledge him knowing that it will bother him.

He's told her enough about his arguments with Linda that she knows what buttons to press.

"Can we talk about this?" Sam questions.

She continues to pack her bag, keeping her back to him. "About what?" She can practically hear his teeth grinding and she can feel the tears prick the back of her eyes.

"About you and Grace going back to Grey House."

Abandoning her suitcase, she walks past him heading for the bathroom. "There's nothing to discuss." There's a moment of silence where he's routed to his spot and his hands go to hips.

He's waging what to do next.

She remains silent, gathering up the few things that have managed to accumulate on the bathroom counter. He's there in the doorway and out of the corner of her eye, she notices that his hands are deliberately in his pockets. Crossing his arms had been a natural response for him, a way to guard himself, to avoid being vulnerable.

Her throat tightens as she focuses on gathering her toiletries.

"It's not safe there-"

His voice is even, steady and it undoes her a little more. "-Grey house is my home, Sam," she cuts off. Brushing past him again, she heads back to her suitcase.

"Grace doesn't feel safe there, Cassie," he implores.

Her heart aches and she quickly wipes away the tears that have welled in her eyes. "….she can stay with Brandon and Tara-"

"-She can stay with me," he sighs. "You both can. Cassie, don't do this."

Her hands still.

She can't _hurt_ him.

Not like the others.

"We shouldn't have done _this_….any of it," she replies softly. "This was a mistake." She can feel the air shift between them, the magnitude her words have had on him. "…I shouldn't have rushed into this, I've worked so hard to stand on my own two feet and my life was…." Her voice catches in her throat and he capitalizes on her minute of hesitation, crossing the room to stand beside her. His chest is at her shoulder and she dips her head, avoiding his gaze.

"_Mistake_?"

His voice is filled with so much hurt that she fumbles with her suitcase, tugging the zipper closed.

Her hands are shaking with the sob she's trapped inside of her.

The suitcase thuds to the floor as she tugs it behind her, creating the much needed space between them. "I'll wait downstairs," she manages to choke out, before leaving the room.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Nick's gaze is expectant as he steps off the elevator and he focuses on getting to the front desk to check out. The concierge slides the paper work across the counter and he's on auto pilot, signing and returning their keys.

She's waiting by the doors, her back to him and all he wants is to have her back upstairs, the way the were last night.

Together.

_Mistake._

The word stings.

He had gone back and forth more times than he can remember in the past about whether or not exploring a relationship with her was worth loosing her all together. He had always told himself that they answer would be yes, but now he's not so sure.

Thanking the concierge, he gathers his bag, gesturing for Nick and Grace to the same. Neither of them say anything as they head out into the parking lot. She's got her own suitcase in her hand, and when he comes beside her, he takes hold of the handles. Their hands brush and her grip is tight.

It's a standoff for a split second, but her grip loosens allowing him to take the suitcase from her.

. . . . . . . . . .

Picking the lock to Grey House is terribly easy.

That's the thing about small towns: old houses and too much trust.

He hasn't seen any of the Merriwicks around town, and her shop has been in darkness since he had decided to redecorate it. Their absence has given some time to plan his next steps.

The bed and breakfast is quiet, surprisingly. After he threw that brick through the front window, he anticipated several officers patrolling the house and street.

Making his way to the kitchen, he finds a vase filling it with water. He has finally found the flowers. He takes more care than necessary to arrange them on the table, before he makes his way throughout the rest of the house.

From his pocket he produces a small vial of oil. If he's lucky, it will have the same affect as the flowers.

Carefully, he shakes a few drops into every candle he finds before heading upstairs. Her bedroom isn't hard to find. There's more candles and he shakes several drops into them. There's lotion and perfumes left on the night stand, and he adds a few drops in each for good measure.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Sam bypasses Grey house, pulling into his own driveway instead. As he parks, the car is deathly silent.

"Well?" Nick prompts.

"Thank you, for the weekend away," Cassie says softly. "…you both have been incredibly supportive, and I know Grace and I are so fortunate to have neighbours like you both in our lives."

He steels a glance at his son in the review mirror and the confusion is clear in his eyes.

"Cassie- you can stay with us," Nick implores.

Cassie smiles, reaching back to take his hand. "Thank you for the offer. I need to be at Grey house right now."

Opening her door, she slides out heading to the trunk to gather her bag. Grace follows, and Nick is sliding into the middle seat, glaring at him.

"What did you do? What did you say?" He demands.

"What?"

"How did you mess this up?" Nick questions angrily. "I told you! I asked you not to mess this up!"

Tears have welled in his son's eyes, and Sam turns in his seat more fully. "Nick-"

"-this was the _one_ thing that felt right since moving here! And you've ruined it!"

The trunk opens and Cassie and Grace's conversations filters into the car, silencing them both.

"Mom, you can't be serious!" Grace demands. "Wells is still out there!"

"Derek and Brandon have assured me that we will be safe," she reasons, grabbing her bag from the trunk.

Grace tugs hers out, reaching up to close the trunk. The door slams shut, and Nick opens his door, slamming it behind him.

He sits for a minute, exhaling.

He watches Cassie as she makes her way over to Grey House. Nick grabs Grace's bag, heading inside his own house.

_What has he done?_

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you all for the wonderful comments/feedback! Believe me, they kept me motivated to update!...music is also a great motivator for me to write, so if you know of any songs that you think fit C&S, leave a suggestion!

. . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 14

"Where are the extra sheets for the guest room?"

It's the first words his son's said to him since their one sided argument in the car. Nick isn't any less angry with him, and he's learned the last few years it would be futile to try and work anything out now. "I think they're still in the dryer; run them again for a few minutes so that-"

"-I know," Nick cuts off, heading back upstairs.

It's been months since he's seen this side of his son. Nick has grown so much, their relationship has grown so much, that his irritation with him stings in a way it never has before. Rubbing the back of his neck, he exhales, turning his gaze back to his kitchen widow. From here he's got a clear view of the front of Grey House and the light that's still on in the sitting room.

She's still up.

The police cruiser remains parked out front and it eases his mind just a little bit at the thought of her being anywhere but in his arms right now.

His phone buzzes from the counter beside him, and he's surprised to see Abigails name flash across his screen.

"Abigail," he greets. "Is everything alright?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Sam," she counters back. "Cassie shouldn't be staying at Grey House alone."

His brow furrows. "How-"

"-I'm a Merriwick; we know everything."

He smiles, hanging his head. "I don't suppose you know what's going through your cousins head, then?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

He waits for her to explain, and he's only met with silence. "Care to fill me in?" He can practically see Abigails knowing smile through the phone at her silence. "She said that we were a mistake….that we shouldn't have done any of this…."

"My cousin is a lot of things, but ignorant is not one of them; why do you think she would say those things? Certainly not because she believes them, Sam."

The realization comes like a flick of a switch. "I have to go." He hangs up before Abigail can even responded, and he's out of his seat, out the front door and making his way across his driveway before he can give it a second thought. The night air is cool and catches his breath a minute as he cuts across the small patch of grass between his drive and hers. As he makes his way up towards the step, the front doors of Grey House open and she's standing there, as if expecting him.

His steps falter a minute, stopping at the bottom of the stoop. He recognizes his t-shirt that she's wearing with the simple shorts and bare feet. The wind picks up and he watches her shiver in its wake and he exhales, just taking her in.

"You pushed my buttons," he begins. "Back at the hotel….you knew exactly what to do, what to say to manipulate the situation."

She shifts her weight on her feet, leaning against the door. Her gaze drops to her feet and her hair becomes a curtain between them.

"You pushed me away on purpose, Cassie, and the only reason why I can think of is that you're scared."

"Sam…we can't do this," she says softly.

There's no conviction behind her voice and he shakes his head. "I don't believe you and if I didn't love you as much as do…." He places his hands on his hips, shrugging his shoulders. "I'd walk away, I wouldn't fight for you, for _us…_.I'm not walking away."

He waits.

He's not walking away. He's not going to give up. Not this time.

She exhales, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I don't want to hurt you, Sam…."

He's taking the steps two at a time to get to her, his hands framing her face. She leans into his touch and he drops his forehead to hers. "Doing _this_ is going to bring me to my knees, sweetheart."

"_Sam_."

"Whatever it is, Cassie, we can figure it out, we can work it out I know we can….just _talk_ to me," he implores gently.

She's nodding, sliding into him and he's got her in his arms, next to him.

He exhales.

. . . . . . . . . .

She's settled onto his couch just as he returns from the kitchen with two mugs in hand. The dull ache that had settled behind her eyes only hours ago, is dissipating, the nausea that had so quickly overcome her, settling. There's tea in both, which surprises her and warms her heart at the same time.

He's a coffee drinker, and yet he has tea, for her.

"Nick and Grace….they're both out like lights," he comments, offering her a mug.

She nods, accepting the mug he hands her. She takes a sip as he settles into the couch beside her. He sits patiently next to her as she tires to gather her thoughts. It's been so long since she's spoken of any of this to anyone.

"My parents died when I was very young," she begins. "….it was a car crash."

He reaches out, placing a supportive hand on her knee.

"….We were living in Zurich and they were going out…to the theatre I think. I didn't want them to go, and I begged and begged for them to stay home with me. My father assured me that they would be home before I knew it….they never made it to the theatre; their care hit a patch of black ice."

"How old were you?" He questions softly.

"8."

He sets his mug on the coffee table, scooting closer towards her. His arms rest on the back of the couch, his fingers running through her hair gently.

"I was sent here and placed in foster care….I never seemed to fit in very well so I moved to several different places until I finally had enough. I ran away, travelled the world and it ultimately led me here, to Middleton." The tea has gone cold between her hands, and she sets it on the coffee table, leaning forward on her knees. She relishes in the tender way his hand brushes the hair from her shoulder, sliding rhythmically up and down her back in comfort.

"I met Jake here and it was _magical_. I found a place where I belonged and I _loved_ him….and then it happened again: the one person I loved the most was ripped from me….I foolishly opened my heart to Ryan, thinking it would be different, but it wasn't….he almost lost his job, his reputation-"

"-You think _you're_ to blame," he states. "Cassie," he sighs.

"I've always been _different-"_

He rises from the couch to sit on the coffee table in front of her. "-which isn't a prerequisite to being some kind of…." He searches for the words. "…omen, or _witch_ or something. Cassie, the tragedies you've experienced have not been your fault," he implores gently. "You can't carry that kind of guilt, sweetheart."

Tears have welled in her eyes and she wipes them away. "….I don't want anything to happen to you, Sam, it's already happening-"

"-because of Amy? My job at Hillcrest?….I can live without them. What I can't live without….is _you_….if you never took that chance with Jake, you wouldn't have Grace, you wouldn't have experienced that love. Call it the pragmatist in me, but I'll take what I know right now over what I don't in the future."

His conviction in his own beliefs halts the wayward fears inside of her. Looking up into his blue eyes, she lets his words sink in, lets them tether her to the here, the now.

"I'm not naive enough to think that the worst couldn't happen tomorrow, but I am a realist."

She smiles at this and he takes her hands into his own.

"I take my health seriously, I don't speed and I look both ways before crossing the street. I get a full eight hours of sleep and don't partake in activities that could cause me bodily harm. I'm doing everything I can to be here, present, with you. That's all any of us can do. Don't short change us for fear of what could happen."

Framing her hands around his face, she leans in, pressing her lips to his. He mirrors her hold, kissing her back.

"Stay," he murmurs against her lips.

She nods against his lips. "Yeah."

. . . . . . . . . .

_French Toast._

Rolling over, Nicks stomach growls, waking him. Squinting at the clock he inwardly groans at how early it still is, flinging the blankets back over his head.

_French Toast._

His stomach growls again and he knows he's not dreaming the smell that's pulling him awake. He crawls out of bed, running his fingers through his hair, yawning. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, Nick makes his way downstairs, his bare feet heavy on the stairs.

"Grace!" He calls. "It's waaayyyy too early to be making French toast!" He yawns again, rubbing his eyes as he turns the corner into the kitchen.

Cassie turns from the stove, smiling. "Morning."

The shock of seeing her in his kitchen quickly gives way to the relief of seeing her in his kitchen. She's dressed in pyjamas and he'd bet his fathers t-shirt and he crosses the kitchen giving her a hug. "You changed your mind."

Cassies arms wrap around him, welcoming him into her embrace. "Your dad convinced me."

He deflates in her arms and when she pulls back, her gaze is questioning. "….I yelled at him in the car yesterday…" He'd given his dad the cold shoulder ever since knowing it would hurt him the most. "…I guess I should have trusted him to figure it out."

Cassie gives him a supportive smile. "If there's one thing I know about your father, it's that he _always_ has your best interests in his heart, and on his mind."

He nods, exhaling.

"Want to help me finish this up?" She turns back to the French toast waiting in the batter for the frying pan.

Nick smiles. "Sure…but I have to warn you; I'm a terrible cook."

"You aren't learning anything when you're talking," she comments.

He laughs, going to the sink to wash his hands. "Can I quote you on that?"

. . . . . . . . . . .

"Lyndon B. Johnson," Sam offers, joining them in the kitchen. He'd heard bits of their conversation as he was making his way downstairs and his gaze connects with hers.

The recognition crosses her eyes and her gaze softens in such a way that there's no mistaking her love for him and his son.

"Who just randomly quotes dead presidents," Nick jokes, joining Cassie at the stove.

"People who pay attention in history class," he jokes back.

Nick roles his eyes, a smile spreading across his face. "I pay attention….most of the time."

Their easy banter does his heart good and he knows he has the women standing in his kitchen making French toast to thank. He passes by them both, planting a kiss on her check, and on the crown of his sons head, heading straight for the coffee maker.

"What is even in this?" Nick asks, soaking the bread in the batter.

Cassie is nothing if not patient with Nick as she explains the ingredients and steps to her families secret French toast recipe. He starts his coffee, filling the kettle he recently purchased with water. Coming to stand beside her at the stove, he sets it on the opposite burner for it to boil. Nick is watching over the French toast dutifully, and he takes the brief minute he has slide his hand up and down her back.

"I'm literally standing right here," Nick comments, a smirk on his face.

"Well, get used to it pall." He leans in, kissing her quickly.

. . . . . . . . . .

Grace would recognize the smell of her mothers French toast anywhere. What she doesn't understand is why she's smelling here, at Sam's place. The minute she steps into the hallway she recognizes her mothers presence and she hurries down the stairs to the kitchen.

She's there, sitting at the breakfast bar with Nick eat French toast.

"Mom? What are you doing here?"

Her mother turns on her stool to face her. "Sam and I talked last night, and he convinced me that you were right; we can't stay at Grey House right now."

Relief washes over her and she looks just beyond her mother to Sam who's leaning against the sink, coffee mug in hand. She opens her mouth to say something, only the words don't come.

"Can I make you a plate?" Same offers, gesturing to the dish of French toast on the counter.

"It just may be the best French toast you've ever tasted," Nick chimes in. "It was made by yours truly."

"Your Mom kept a watchful eye," Sam jokes.

Nick feigns hurt, causing her mother to laugh. "You did an excellent job, Nick."

"Thank you, Cassie!"

Sam shakes his head, holding up an empty plate. "Well?"

She nods. "That would be great." There's an empty stool beside her mother and Grace slide onto it, leaning into her mothers hug as she wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Tbc


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews, favs and follows! Here's an update! As always, music plays a big part in my writing process; here are the songs that gave particular inspiration to this chapter.

Care for you : watch?v=4ynAr9pBaWk

Surrender: watch?v=nagMxzLZfLk

Grow as we go: watch?v=Dhna6YQEvz8

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter 15

After much convincing, both Nick and Grace have headed upstairs to get ready for school, leaving her alone with Sam to clean up the remaining dishes. He's just finished loading the dishwasher as the reality of the day settles around them. The last few days have been a constant loop in her mind and the guilt of having hurt him deliberately weighs heavily on her.

"Cassie?"

His concerned gaze brings her from her thoughts and he's crossing the kitchen to stand beside her at the breakfast bar.

"You ok?" He questions.

"I need to apologize," she begins.

Confusion crosses his face. "For what, exactly?"

"For what I said to you at the hotel."

The recognition colours his eyes and she can feel the change in him as his hurt unfurls within his body.

"I used what you told me in confidence about your relationship with Linda to manipulate you into thinking I didn't love you. I crossed a line and I'm sorry, Sam."

His jaw tightens for a brief minute before he softens, attempting to give her a reassuring smile. "Already forgotten."

She doesn't exactly believe him, but his phone rings, taking him to the next room to answer it. She waits a minute before following him catching the end of his conversation.

"Of course. See you shortly."

He hangs up, exhaling.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah….just the hospital calling; the board wants to meet."

Her reaction must have given her away because he's framing his hands around her face, levelling his gaze with her own.

"There's no reason to assume the worst," he says softly.

He presses a kiss to her forehead before he makes his way upstairs to get ready.

. . . . . . . . . . .

"Dad, hurry up! We're going to be later than we already are!" Nick calls from the front door.

Grabbing his tie, he slings it around his neck rushing down the stairs. Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he tosses them to Grace who's waiting with his son patiently. "Start it up; I'll be just a minute."

Grace smiles, heading out to the car, Nick on her heals.

She's leaning against the living room entryway, and he hurriedly does his tie. "Are you heading to the Bell Book today?"

She nods, pushing away from the frame to take the tie from his hands. "I have to drop the Merriwick submission for the museum exhibit at Martha's office at some point today, too."

With everything that had been going on, he had completely forgotten about the exhibit. He stills, letting her hands tighten his tie before they smooth it out down his chest. "Call me if you need anything?"

Her hands still a minute, before her gaze lifts to meet his. "Only if you promise to do the same?"

That knowing look is in her eyes and for the first time, it settles uneasily inside of him. "Promise."

Her brows knit for the briefest of minutes before she's moving into him, and he wraps his arms around her tightly.

"I love you, Sam."

The horn beeps loudly from the driveway and a sideways glance finds Nick tapping his wrist from the passenger seat.

"I have to go." Pulling away, he grabs his jacket scooping up his bag from the foyer heading out to the car. He's tossing his bag in the back, throwing on his jacket when it hits him. He circles the car again in a jog, heading back towards the house where she's standing in the doorway. Framing his hands around her face, he leans in, pressing his lips to hers. She's got him by the lapels and she tugs him towards her with such force, he's backed her against the doorframe, his body pressed to hers. "I love you too," he breathes against her lips.

. . . . . . . . . .

"The Mayor is running a bit behind, but she assured me that she would only be a few more minutes." Jared ushers her into Martha's office. "Can I get you anything while you wait?"

She smiles kindly. "No thank you, Jared."

He nods. "I'm excited to see what you've got for the Historical Middleton exhibit! It wouldn't have been complete without mention of our founders, the Merriwicks."

Setting the box on Martha's desk, she looks down at the assortment of things she's brought. "We're happy to be included."

There's a buzzing and Jared fishes his phone out of his pocket. Glancing at the screen, his expression immediately changes. "If you'll excuse me, Cassie; I have to take this!"

He's already out of the room before she can disagree. She catches his greeting towards Derek, and judging by the frenetic tone of Jared's voice, somethings gone awry.

She settles into an empty chair in the office that was once her own, her mind wandering. She's worried about Sam and how they left things this morning. His kiss goodbye still lingers on her lips as much as the hurt she saw in his eyes. She also has a feeling about the phone call from the hospital.

Exhaling, she takes a minute to close her eyes and centre herself. The brief few minutes she was at Grey House to collect the items for the exhibit, have thrown her more off balance than she already was. Her thoughts and feelings are scattered and she attempts to focus in on just one.

She can sense Grace's unease.

Abigail's alertness.

Sam's anger.

"Oh Cassie, you're still here!" Martha breezes into her office in a flurry. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting; budget meetings," she gives by way of an answer. "I'm sure you don't miss _those_."

Sam's _anger_.

She sinks back into her chair, deflating.

"Cassie, are you alright?" Martha questions. "Jarred!"

Her assistant scurries into the office. "Yes Madame Mayor?"

"Could you get us something to drink, tea, water, please."

"Right away!"

Martha takes the chair opposite her, reaching out for her hand. "Cassie, dear?"

She startles, shaken from her thoughts. "Oh, I'm sorry…."

"Where were you just now?" Martha asks softly. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm…..I'm not sure….It's Sam…." She closes her eyes, willing the tears not to brim her eyes. "I guess you could say we had our first fight and it hasn't left us on very solid ground."

"Oh dear," Martha sympathizes. "I certainly remember how that feels; like everything is off kilter."

The tears trickle down her check despite her best effort, and she carefully wipes them away.

"Oh Cassie, dear." Martha squeezes her hand, reaching for the box of tissue on her desk.

Jarred returns with a silver tea set complete with milk, cream and sugar. He sets in on the desk. "I hope Earl Grey is alright-" his words catch at the sight in front of him, and he quietly makes his exit, closing the door behind him.

"My first fight with Tom was over how to load the dishwasher of all things," she muses, making them both a cup of tea. "Something so silly turned ugly and we said the most hurtful things to each other: _you're a control freak_, _you never listen to me_….we didn't speak for days. It almost came between us."

Martha hands her a cup, which she accepts gratefully. "You clearly didn't let it. How?" She questions.

Taking a sip of her tea, Martha ponders her words a minute. "We talked honestly with each other. We each had to express our feelings and work together in order to move forward."

She sighs, looking down into her tea. "That's not exactly something either of us do well."

"Then you can grow _together_."

. . . . . . . . . .

"Sam, wait!"

He's already halfway to the elevator before Bruce catches up to him.

"It's not personal-"

He turns on his heals abruptly. "-it kinda feels personal, Bruce," he interjects.

"The board made concessions when they hired you, Sam: they agreed to let you set your own schedule, they agreed to allow you to continue your practice. There were things that they expected in return-"

"-which I couldn't deliver," he finishes.

Bruce holds his hands out questioningly. "Their hands are tied….Look, they still want you on as a practicing physician; there were even talks of you taking over the ER."

Sam shakes his head. "Just not as chief of staff."

"Honestly, Sam, it was an impossible task, even for you."

He smarts at his comment, stiffening. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

Bruce grimaces, shrugging his shoulders. "Take some time, think about what you want to do."

He pats him on the shoulder and he's left standing in the hallway, reelling just a bit. His phone buzzes from his pocket, and he pulls it out, glancing at the screen and Cassie's incoming text.

_Thinking of you._

Sighing, he shoves his phone back into his pocket. As much as he's angry about loosing his position at Hillcrest, he's still trying to figure out the anger he hasn't been able to shake since this morning. Heading for the elevator, he punches the call button, stepping inside. He had been so focused on her safety, that he never really had time to process how he felt about what she had said, what she had done.

The elevator stops at the ground level, and he smiles kindly at the nurse that joins him heading down to the parking garage.

Manipulation was Linda's game and she excelled at it. When he had shared with Cassie the ins and outs of their failed marriage, he had always thought it was in confidence. He never expected her to use it against him.

The elevator stops, and they both step out into the garage. It's full as usual and he weaves his way through the cars on autopilot to his own. His car beeps as he unlocks it, sliding into the drivers seat.

His phone buzzes from his pocket again, reminding him of the text from Cassie he hasn't opened or acknowledged. His anger has settled inside of him and he recognizes a version of himself he hasn't been since leaving New York. His instinct is to close himself off, shut her out. Hurt her before she has a chance to hurt him even more.

His phone is in his hands calling her before he can reason not to.

"Hey," she greats softly. "I was just thinking of you."

He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Is everything alright?" She questions.

"Hillcrest fired me."

There's silence on her end for a minute before she speaks. "Where are you?"

"Sitting in my car in the parking garage."

"Come _home_," she urges gently.

He's shaking his head, his anger rolling inside of him. "I can't right now."

"Can't or _won't_?"

Even over the phone she see's right through him and doesn't comfort him like he knows it should. "I have to to go-"

"-Sam-"

He hangs up before she can say anything else, turning his phone off.

. . . . . . . . . .

The dial tone is loud and abrupt in her ear. She rooted to her spot for more than a few minutes as she attempts to absorb what's just happened. As much as she us hurt at his actions, she's more worried about the harmful, yet familiar, pattern of behaviour he's slipping into.

Grabbing her keys off of his kitchen counter, she heads to her car.

. . . . . . . . . .

The waiting room of his practice is empty and normally that would raise a few questions for him but he's not particularly in the mood right now. Eve slides some paperwork on the counter towards him. "Bobby Burkes latest X-rays and Mrs. Jones results from her blood work."

"Right….thanks." He flips through the X-rays briefly, knowing already that nothing has changed since his last ones. "Is there anyone scheduled this afternoon?"

"Uhhh….no, Mr. Truman and Gladys called to reschedule for later next week….I was wondering if it were alright if I take off a little early today?"

He racks his memory for something he may have forgotten that would cause Eve to make such request, coming up with nothing. "Yeah, sure. Enjoy the rest of the day."

She smiles, collecting her things. "You too, Dr. Radford."

"Lock up before you go?" Eve nods, and he heads back towards his office.

His focus in on Mrs. Jones results and he doesn't notice Cassie sitting at his desk until he closes the door behind him. "I don't have time-"

"-Yes you do," she rebuttals.

The realization hits him and he tosses the files on his desk. "Did you tell Eve to reschedule my appointments?"

She shakes her head. "That was merely a coincidence."

He scoffs, knowing better. "I'm sure," he responds sarcastically. He can feel his body tensing and he knows where this is going to lead to. "Cassie….I can't do this. I'm…." He rubs his forehead, exhaling. "…I'm not the best version of myself right now."

. . . . . . . . . .

"I haven't been either," she admits. His jaw jumps and his arms fold in front of his chest. He's closing himself off, shutting down and if it weren't for the fact that he had _called her_, she'd give him space he doesn't need right now. "Can we talk about this?" She questions softly.

He sighs, shaking his head. "I wanted to talk about it that night at the hotel….and you _manipulated_…." He stops, his chest rises and falls on a deep breath. "….I shared those things, the way….Linda would hurt me and you used that _purposefully, _Cassie."

"I was scared-"

"-that doesn't negate how it made me feel," he cuts in. "I opened myself up, shared in a way I've never done before."

His hurt is palpable and her regret sits lodged in her throat. "Have I lost your trust?" His gaze connects with hers and the silence envelops them tightly.

His arms unfurl and he deflates a little. "No," he says softly.

Rising from his chair she crosses the room, closing the space between them. Placing a hand on his chest, she meets his gaze. "I'm _sorry_. I've lived with this fear and guilt for so long and I was wrong to use what we have to assuage them. I want you to know that I recognize that I have to work on letting them both go…and sharing the load."

His hand covers hers, his fingers lacing with hers. "…I have some more work to do in that regard too."

She can feel the shift in him, the calming, sure presence she's come to know him by settling around him. "Forgive me?"

He brushes the hair from her face tucking it behind her ear, before snaking his hand to the nape of her neck, bringing her lips to his. "Forgiven," he breathes against her mouth.

Tbc


	16. Chapter 16

You all are SO amazing! Thank you for waiting paitently for this update! I intended it to be longer, but I'm looking to move the story along! Stay tuned!

16

"Well?" Martha prompts.

Cassie takes a minute to survey the Merriwick display for the Historical Middleton exhibit. Black and white and more than a little frayed, the few pictures she has of her family have stood the test of time and a testament to the will of her Merriwick heritage. "I think it's beautiful, Martha."

Martha exhales dramatically, clasping her hands together. "Oh I'm glad you approve! With everything that's been going on, I didn't want to add anymore to your plate!"

She smiles kindly, pondering a minute over the photo of her great-grandmother, Laurel. She's still not sure who the man is standing next to her, and the more she ponders it, the more she thinks Grace may be right: had there been a mystery man in her life?

"How are things with Sam?" Martha questions gently.

Despite being just down the hall from their kids, they had spent the past few nights and early mornings _reconnecting_. The blush slides over her cheeks and she looks down, biting her lip in an attempt to hide the grin that's come unexpectedly. "Really good," she answers. "You were right: we were in need of some honest conversation."

"Well, I do hope it led to a conversation of different _kind_, if you know what I mean," Martha winks knowingly.

She laughs, nodding.

. . . . . . . . . .

"You said it was just a sprain."

Sam nods, exhaling. "That's what I thought, yes, then I received Bobby's xrays." Grabbing the file off his desk, he slides the X-ray up onto the light turning it on. "Do you see this sliver here?"

Mrs. Burke nods, while trying to keep her son occupied on her lap.

"That's a break in Bobby's growth plate. It doesn't look like much, but they're very serious; they can affect the growth of Bobby's arm."

"So does he need a cast?" She questions.

Flicking off the light, Sam returns to his seat. "His fracture is too unstable for a cast. He's going to need surgery."

"Surgery? He's _four_ years old!"

He had anticipated this. "I know that sounds scary-"

"-scary is an understatement, Dr. Radford! He's just a baby!" Mrs. Burke cuts him off.

"Hillcrest has an amazing orthopaedic surgeon; Bobby will be in great hands. And I'll be right beside you, every step of the way," he reassures.

Mrs. Burke relaxes a fraction, nodding.

"I've made an appointment for Bobby to have his arm assessed later this afternoon. I know this is all moving fast; the sooner Bobby see's the surgeon for a consult, the sooner his surgery can be booked."

"Ok," Mrs. Burke nods, exhaling.

He gives her another reassuring nod. "Would someone like a lollipop now?"

Bobby's face lights up. "Meeee!" He exclaims excitedly.

His mother laughs, adding a little levity to the situation.

"Let's go then," he smiles, following them both out into the waiting room. "Someone's ready for their lollipop, Eve!"

"Is that so!" Eve smiles, setting the dish in front of the boy on the counter.

His little hand goes right for the red one, and Sam helps him tear the rapper off. "Eve, could you get Mrs. Burke the directions for Dr. Samir's office and the time for their appointment?"

"Sure thing!" Eve takes a minute to write the information down, before sliding it across the counter. "There you go! Hope everything goes well."

Mrs. Burke takes the slip of paper, setting her son down, taking his hand. "Me too."

Sam gives her a reassuring look. "It will. Call me if you have any questions after your appointment."

"Thank you Dr. Radford….come on Bobby. Say bye!"

The little boy waves to them both, sucker in his mouth.

When the door closes behind them, he finally exhales, rubbing his forehead.

"This probably isn't the best time to tell you that I have Linda on hold," Eve grimaces. "She's been calling all morning."

"All morning?"

"ALLLLLLLLL morning," Eve clarifies. "She's been tying up the phones."

Dealing with his ex-wife wasn't on his to-do list. Frankly, nothing all morning had been on his to-do list other than Cassie.

He smiles at this, think of the way she writhed under his mouth all morning.

"Dr. Radford?"

He clears his throat. "I'll take it. Thanks, Eve." He fishes his phone out of his pocket on the way back to his office, opening up a new message to Cassie.

_Thinking of you. And my bed._

He hit's send before falling into his chair, reaching for the phone. He connects the blinking light to his line, bracing himself for the onslaught.

"4 hours Sam! Really?!"

"Hello to you too, Linda-"

"-don't be flip, Sam!" She admonishes. "I've been trying to reach you all morning! How come you haven't been returning my calls?"

"I've been with patients all morning; I'm squeezing you in now."

Linda scoffs. "How _generous_ of you."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, willing his voice to remain even. "What do you want, Linda?"

"When were you going to tell me about what's been happening in that apparently _not-so-small _town you live in?"

He exhales.

"Here's one better!" She continues. "When were you going to tell me that you're sleeping with _her_!?"

"Don't be crass-"

"-I'll be however I choose when it comes to the safety of my son!" She cuts him off.

"_Our_ son," he corrects.

"I don't want Nick around her or the danger that's she's found herself in! If you don't send her back to her _Blue House_-"

"-_Grey_ House-"

"-WHATEVER!" She yells. "I'll have a lawyer revoke your rights so fast your head will spin, Sam!"

She hangs up in his ear before he can respond, and it's such a typical response that it doesn't effect him the way he knows she intended it to.

His phone buzzes from his desk, and he reads the text from Cassie flashing across his screen.

_Mmmmmmm….thinking of you too. And your mouth._

He smiles, replying back. _Let me take you to lunch?_

_Yes_❤︎

_. . . . . . . . . ._

His SUV passes her just as she turns the corner to the Bistro. He parks right out front, and as he slides out the drivers side, Cassie can sense the tension in him. He circles his car, heading towards her and she welcomes the embrace he engulfs her in almost immediately.

"Hey," she greets softly, sliding her arms under his jacket. He deflates a little next her and she soothes the tension from his body with her hands, gliding up the firm columns in his back.

Pulling back, he presses his lips to hers. "I needed that."

She returns his kiss. "I know you did."

A slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he meets her gaze.

"Everything ok?" She questions.

He sighs, taking her hand in his. "I'll tell you about it over lunch."

She follows him into the Bistro, which is unusually quiet for this time of day. There's an empty table by the window and he heads right for it, knowing it's her favourite spot. He tucks her chair in for her before taking his own and it isn't long before Stephanie is at their table with a smile.

"Long time no see, strangers!"

Everything has been such a whirlwind lately she can't remember the last time they spoke. "I know! I'm sorry!"

Stephanie waves her off. "It's alright; I know you've been busy. Did you get the tea I sent to the Bell book this morning?"

"I did! That was so sweet of you, Stephanie, thank you."

"It's the least I could do, really….Have you been back to Grey House? If you and Grace need a place to stay, my door is always open!"

She looks over at Sam who's busied himself with a menu. "I haven't been yet, and we've been staying with Sam, actually…."

Stephanie's gaze widens for a split second before she smiles. "Sam probably throws a better slumber party anyway," she teases.

Sam hides behind the menu causing them both to laugh.

"The usual for you both?" Stephanie questions.

She nods. "That would be great."

"Coming right up!"

When they're alone again, Sam peaks at her over the top of his menu. "Should I be organizing facials and pedicures?"

She laughs, reaching across the table to take his hand. "I like the _other_ activities you've planned."

He smiles playfully. "Me too….I definitely wish that I had stayed in bed with you this morning."

She swipes her thumb against the back of his hand encouragingly, and he recounts his morning at his practice, and his difficult conversation with a patient. He doesn't give specifics, and he doesn't have to; she knows his frustration and disappointment is with himself.

"…and then Linda called and proceeded to threaten to reopen our custody agreement and take Nick away from me."

The waiter arrives with their order, and she thanks him with a smile. "Linda doesn't approve of me-"

"-She doesn't get a say, Cassie," he interjects. "Not on this." He drags his spoon through his soup several times before he let's his guard down, rubbing his forehead.

"…She uses Nick as a pawn every time she disagrees with my decisions and I don't understand why she doesn't…." He lets his voice trail off, leaning back into his chair.

"…why she doesn't see how _happy_ you make your son," she finishes.

His eyes well, and he shakes his head. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for him," he says softly.

"Nick knows that, Sam."

He nods, taking a minute to compose himself. "….I know she's bluffing but every time she threatens it…I'd sooner let her win than put Nick through that."

Business has picked up and as the customers occupy the tables around them, she recognizes this isn't where he needs to be right now. Signalling the waiter, she asks for their food to go and settles the bill.

Sam gives her a confused look. "What are you doing?"

"A change in scenery. Come on."

. . . . . . . . . .

The salt air is especially crisp this time of year, and as he sits in the trunk of his car, the door raised above them, he inhales deeply. The ice cream she insisted on stopping for drips on his hand, and he catches it with his mouth before the double scoop of chocolate chunk drips all over him.

It's exactly what he needed.

She's sitting beside him, her legs crossed and he takes a minute to just take her in. The wind plays gently with her hair and the afternoon sun casts a soft glow across her skin. Her lips are puckered around her double scoop of butter pecan and everything about her in that moment is perfect.

Like always.

She catches his gaze, and she smiles softly, offering her cone. "Want a lick?"

He wants a lifetime of this.

Just this.

_Her_.

Like this.

Leaning in, he mates his lips with hers and the rich taste of butter and pecans catch his tongue as he teases her mouth open. She doesn't hesitate, letting the heat of his kiss chase the chill from her lips.

"mmmmmm," she hums against his lips. "You taste like chocolate."

"That's a good thing, right?" He questions.

"A very good thing."

Tbc


	17. Chapter 17

...Something went wonky with my previous update; so here's a re-upload! Thanks everyone for catching it! Would love to hear from you (replies keep me motivated to write!)

17

"Hey!" Stephanie greets from behind the counter. "Late afternoon pick-me-up?"

She smiles, leaning against the empty counter. "Yes, please." She had felt fine that morning, but as the day slipped away from her, an unsettling feeling seemed to overcome her. "Something with ginger?"

Stephanie gives her a worried look as she prepares her tea. "Are you feeling ok? Should I call Sam?"

"Just a little tired," she reassures, just as a familiar presence engulfs her. "Better make it two." The bell above the Bistro chimes, and she turns to meet Abigail as she walks in. "Hey," she greets, welcoming her hug. "I've missed you," she confesses.

Abigail gives her a tight squeeze before pulling back. "I doubt that; Sam's not keeping you company?" She teases with a smirk.

"He's been _great _company." Stephanie slides the two cups of tea towards her, and she thanks her, offering one to her cousin.

Abigail grins at this, accepting the tea. "I'm glad...is there ginger in this?" She opens the lid to smell the aroma emanating from to-go cup.

"I had a feeling I wouldn't be the only one needing it today."

Taking a sip, Abigail links her arm with hers, leading her to a table. "So you feel it too, then?" She nods, letting the heat from her tea warm her hands; they've been cold all morning.

"It has to be Weld," Abigail reasons. "He has to be in Middleton."

As much as she didn't want to believe it, it had been the only reason that made sense.

"Are you worried?" Abigail questions.

"Yeah," she admits with a sigh. "I can't feel his intention, only his energy..."

"...which isn't exactly rainbows and sunshine." Abigail takes a sip of her tea, shaking off the heaviness that's settled between them. "Let's change the subject! Martha was telling me about the Merriwick exhibit; I can't wait to see it."

The Historical Middleton event has crept up on her quicker than she realized, only a few days away. "I got a sneak peak the other day and it's amazing." She recalls the photo of her great- grandmother. "Do you recall anything about our great-grandmother having a brother?"

Abigail shakes her head. "Not that I know of. Why?"

She leans back in her chair, pondering it. "I came across a photo of her with another man that wasn't her husband."

"A mystery man."

She smiles. "That's what Grace said."

Abigail checks her phone for the time. "I've got to get back to the shop...see you soon?"

"Of course," she reassures. "Stay safe." "You too."  
...

There's a handful of customers in the Bell Book, but Cassie can't seem to focus on much else but Weld. She smiles welcomingly as they mingle throughout the shop but she can't muster to chat or offer her advice. Slipping her phone from under the counter, she sends a quick text to Grace just to check in. Her next text is to Sam.

_Something doesn't feel right._

He doesn't respond right away which means he's probably with a patient.

Exhaling, she attempts to recenter herself.

"Hey...are you ok?" Tara questions, coming to stand on the other side of the counter.

"...I don't know," she answers truthfully. "I guess I'm not feeling like myself today."

Tara's expression grows worried. "Why do you call it a day, then? I can close up here."

"You don't mind?"

Tara shakes her head. "Not at all. Go home; get some rest."

She's sure to give her a grateful hug before gathering her things. Her phone buzzes from her pocket on her way out the door, and she reads the text from Sam.

_**Are you ok?...I'm with a patient right now.**_

She wants to hear his voice, feel his touch.

_I'm ok...missing you. I'm heading home._

She slips her phone back into her pocket, heading for her car.

...

He had been more than worried since Cassie's text, and the minute his last patient left his office, he was out the door behind them. He's grateful that what little traffic there is in Middleton is slow, and he's able to make it home quicker than usual.

Letting himself in, he tosses his bag on the floor by the door, his keys in his pocket. He sheds his coat on he way to the kitchen, tossing it on an empty stool at the breakfast bar. She doesn't sense him coming, and when he runs his hands up her arms, she startles.

"It's just me," he soothes.

She turns into him and he's got her in his arms as she exhales. He breathes a little better too, and he takes a few minutes to just hold her.

"Something's wrong, Sam," she says softly. "I can feel it."

Cradling her to him, he presses his lips to the crown of her head. He catches the hitch in her voice, the subtle way her grip tightens on the back of his shirt. "Tell me what it feels like," he coaxes gently.

Pulling back, she shakes her head wiping her eyes. "I don't know how to explain it."

"I need you to try, Cassie...I can't fix this without your help."

Her gaze softens and she inhales deeply. "It's a heaviness inside of me...like something...or _someone_...has this hold on me."

He's not sure that he's understanding what she's trying to tell him, and his confusion must have crossed his face because she pulls away, moving to the living room. He follows, sitting on the coffee table in front of her.

"It's Weld," she says softly.

He's taken aback. "You think he's done something to you?" He's immediately running through possible narcotics that fit her symptoms.

"Not in the way you're thinking," she clarifies. "Then I don't understand," he admits.

She rises from the couch, putting space between them again. He sits for a minute before turning on the coffee table to face her. She's pacing a little and he's not sure he's ever seen her so restless.

"Not everything can be explained through Western medicine."

Her gaze settles on his and he recognizes that this will be defining moment in their relationship, just like it always has. "Ok," he responds encouragingly. Her relief is palpable and he's rising from the coffee table, reaching for her. "Ok," he reassures again. She melts into him and he holds her tightly. "What do you need me to do, Cassie?"

"He's here. In Middleton...I can feel it."

He's not going to question how she knows this. "I'll call Derek."

...

"There you two are," she greets from the kitchen, checking on the crumble she has in the oven.

Nick tosses his backpack on the couch, before joining her. "It smells amazing in here! What are you making?"

"Blueberry crumble," Grace answers, sliding onto a stool at the breakfast bar. Nick gives her a look. "Seriously?"

Cassie smiles, removing the oven mits from her hand, placing them on the counter. "It's blueberry crumble."

Nick shakes his head, checking his phone. "I'm going to figure out how you do that someday...is my dad around?" His phone chirps serval times in his hand before it starts ringing. Nick silences it, shoving it in his pocket.

"He's in his study...everything ok?" She questions.

"Everything's fine," he reassures, heading down the hall.

Grace waits until they hear the door open and close behind him before speaking. "His mom has been texting and calling him non-stop for the past _2 _day...he wouldn't tell me why."

She nods, tending to the stew that's just about finished on the stove. "It might be best to give Nick some space to work things out with his parents."

Grace gives her a questioning look. "Do you know why his mom's calling incessantly?"

Anding a dash of thyme, she stirs the pot gently. Of course she knows, but telling her daughter that Sam's ex-wife is less than thrilled at their relationship is not going to fix anything right now. "Sometimes it's best to stay out of other people's stew."

"Is that your subtle way at saying, 'mind my own business'?"

Wiping her hands, she comes to lean across the counter from where her daughter sits. "Everyone has enough on their plate as it is; trust that Sam, Linda and Nick can work whatever it is out."

"If you say so," Grace comments skeptically. "...is there a reason why you're baking?"

She had hoped that her daughter hadn't noticed. While the heaviness has dissipated, she can't shake the worry she feels.

"Does it have something to do why you randomly texted me at school today?"

"I've got some things on my plate, that's all."

"Want to talk about it?" Grace offers.

She smiles, reaching across the counter to take her hands in her own. "Maybe later?" Grace nods, squeezing her hands. "I'm going to go start my homework."

...

Sam is so engrossed in the charts and medical files in front of him he hardly hears the knock on the door until Nick's head is peaking around it.

"Got a minute?"

"Yeah, of course," he closes the files in front of him, removing his glasses. "Everything ok?" Nick closes the door behind him, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "You be the judge."

He holds the phone out to him, and he takes it, scrolling through 37 text messages from Linda. _Are you safe?_

_Are you hurt?_

_How long has your father been sleeping with her?_

_Is she staying at the house?_

_Has he stayed at her house?_ _Nick, answer me please!_

The phone starts ringing in his hand as he's scrolling, and Linda's face flashes across the screen. "Do you want me to answer it?"

Sinking into an armchair, Nick sighs. "Be my guest."

He accepts the call, placing the phone to his ear.

"Thank God! Are you alright? Nick don't ever scare me like that again!" She berates.

"Nick's fine," he answers. "A little exasperated, but fine."

"Sam? Where's Nick? Why do you have his phone? Put him on the phone NOW!"

He looks over at his son who is shaking his head. "He's busy at the moment, but I assure you, he's fine-"

"-Sam I'm not playing around-"

"-neither am I Linda," he inserts. "You've texted him 37 times! Did it ever occur to you that he was in school?"

"It takes 2 seconds to text back-"

"-keep this between us, Linda; don't put Nick in the middle of this."

"You effectively did that when you started sleeping with her!"

Nick's faces turns red and he looks anywhere but at him. "I'm going to hang up now. I'll also be turning off NIck's phone. If you wish to speak to him, call the house, _after _dinner-"

"-you can't do that!-"

"-Goodbye Linda." He hangs up, holding the power button until it powers off. He tosses it to him, and Nick catches it in his lap.

"She's going to call the house any minute."

He walks over to the landline that's in his office, turning the phone on to tie up the line. "Now she won't until after dinner."

Nick laughs. "That's so old school."

He leans against his desk, crossing his ankles. "Want to talk about it?"

"I'd rather you both just leave me out of it."

He's avoiding his gaze and he waits a minute before speaking. "Do you feel unsafe, having Cassie and Grace here?"

"No! Absolutely not, Dad, come on! How could you even ask me that!...I mean, Grace is a pain in the butt on a good day, but I love having her and Cassie here."

He nods. "OK...listen: if you want answer any of those questions your mother's asking you-"

"-it's none of her business, Dad-"

"-you can," he finishes. "I've got nothing to hide."

Nick's silent for a minute before the recognition crosses his face. "She's going to try to take me from you, isn't she?"

He chooses his words carefully. "You're mother is always going to do what she thinks is best for you-"

"-except what is _actually _best for me," Nick corrects, jumping from the armchair. He paces the room. "This is so messed up! I'm not leaving! I'm not leaving Middleton! I'm not leaving you!"

He's unraveling in front of him and Sam pushes away from the desk stopping Nick with his hands on his shoulders. "You're getting ahead of yourself-"

"-how can you be so calm right now?!" Nick interjects.

"Is that what I'm projecting?" He jokes.

Nick deflates a little, and his cell phone buzzes from his desk.

"The last thing I want to do is put you in the middle of a custody hearing. For now, I'm going to believe that your mother is reacting to what's going on in Middleton right now."

His phone continues to buzz across the desk.

"Once the MPD find Weld, your mother will be more apt to listen to reason." "You're hoping," Nick points out sarcastically.

He crosses his fingers, moving to his desk to grab his phone. The hospital's number flashes across his screen, and he's already answering it. "Dr. Radford..."

"Hello Dr...this is Jesse from the emergency room...look, I'm sorry to call you, especially when you're not on call-"

He shakes his head. "-it's fine. What have you got?" "Blunt force trauma."

"Vitals?"

"Stable, but the patients o2 levels are steadily dropping. X-rays show something lodged in the lung."

"I'm on my way." ...

Nick is first to emerge from the study, and Sam is a bit of a whirlwind as he gathers his scattered belongs around the house.

"Everything ok?" She asks.

"I've got to go to the hospital...a patient needs me...have you seen my keys?" He's sliding on his coat, looking through the dish on the end table in the hall.

"Check your left pocket."

Patting his left side, he pulls the keys from his pocket holding them up. "I'm probably headed for surgery, so I don't know what time I'll be back..."

Nick's found himself in front of the tv, seemingly used to the urgency in which his father is scrambling to get out the door. She's caught a little off guard, not sure what to do or say. "Ok...I hope everything turns out alright. Text when you can?"

He leans in for a kiss, and an overwhelming sense worry settles inside of her.

"I will," he assures. He's halfway to the door before he stops, turning on his heels. "Oh!...don't use the phone!"

Nick laughs from the couch.

...

She takes her time filling his fancy kettle, searching the cupboards for the tea he's sworn he's purchased just for her. She spies the camomile tucked beside his coffee filters and she smiles a little. He's missed dinner and the early evening has slipped away into the night, and she can't shake the unsettling feeling she had when he left.

While the kettle boils, she checks her phone for what feels like the millionth time from a text from him.

Nothing.

There's footsteps above her and they carry down the hall and the stairs until Nick is in the kitchen, standing in the fridge. "Is there anymore of that crumble left?"

"In the container in the back," she smiles.

He helps himself, grabbing a spoon hopping up onto the counter. "Has my dad texted you?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet."

Nick nods, taking a rather large bite of crumble. "He's a terrible texter when he's in the ER...even more when he's in the OR. Just so you know."

Under normal circumstances, she's sure she wouldn't worry as much as she is. The doorbell rings, and Nick is hopping off the counter to answer it. She follows, standing in the hallway as he opens the door to Derek and Brandon.

"What's wrong?" She questions immediately.

Nick closes the door behind them as they both step into the living room.

"I got Sam's message," Derek starts. "I'm sorry I couldn't get back to him earlier; we found Weld's car behind the brewery."

Everything tilts a little and she grabs hold of the arm chair for balance. "Where's Grace?" Brandon questions.

"She's upstairs," Nick answers. "What does this mean?"

Derek doesn't answer his questions. "Have you spoken to Abigail recently?" Her mind is racing. "I...we met at the Bistro...earlier today."

"Is Sam here?" Brandon asks.

She shakes her head. "...he got called into the ER a few hours ago."

Derek nods, reaching for the mic on his shoulder. "Copy dispatch? Contact Hillcrest for a location on Dr. Radford."

"What's going on?" Nick demands. "Is my Dad in danger or something?"

Derek exhales, giving Nick an empathetic look. "I'm sure your Dad is fine...Cassie, could we talk in private?"

Nick is about to protest when Derek's mic cut's in. "_Copy chief?"_

"Go ahead," Derek responds.

"_Dr. Radford isn't at the hospital...shift has changed and they are unsure of when he left."_

Derek shares a look with Brandon, who's already on his way out the door. "Copy dispatch... Officer Russell is looking into it."

Nick's got his phone to his ear and they can all hear it as it rings and rings and rings. "...pick up, pick up," he urges.

Tbc


End file.
